The Consequence of Haste
by megosborne
Summary: Follows A Visit to Scotland. Fitzwilliam Darcy is reluctantly welcoming George and Anne Wickham to stay at Pemberley. With Georgiana displaced and distant, will Elizabeth succeed in building a happy future with her new family?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N - So sorry for the delay getting this up! I spent half of yesterday on a train, thank you random delays and re-routing, and so uploading a new story got pushed back._

 _This is the start of book 5 in this 6-book series and we are picking up right where A Visit to Scotland left off: with everyone en route to Pemberley, except for the one person already there, of course..._

* * *

Georgiana Darcy could not sit still. She had attempted reading, and playing her beloved piano, and later settled to sewing, yet still found her attention straying.

"Your stitches are so neat, Miss Darcy!"

Georgiana smiled at the compliment, although she was little surprised by it. Her companion, Charlotte, was a kind creature but seemed able to do little other than admire Georgiana for her every action. There were compliments upon compliments for every move Georgiana made. _I wonder if that is part of being a companion_ , she wondered idly. Charlotte was a relatively new development in her life at Pemberley and had been engaged, Georgiana knew, on the whim of her brother in order to prevent his sister from succumbing to loneliness. _I would far rather William had kept his money and come here himself_ , she thought, jabbing with irritation at the stitch before her. She caught her thumb with the needle, and winced, before throwing the poor sewing aside.

"It is no good, Charlotte!" she said, with a sigh. "I cannot pretend to be interested in embroidery this morning." She stood, and walked leisurely to the wide windows that overlooked Pemberley's entrance. "I am much more interested in our friends' arrival."

"Did Mr Darcy make any suggestion of the time you might expect your visitors?" Charlotte asked, retrieving the discarded sewing and laying it neatly in Georgiana's work-basket with its neighbours.

"He merely said today," Georgiana said, squinting into the distance as if she might sooner discern the arrival of a carriage.

"And he does not accompany them?" Charlotte stood, and slowly joined Georgiana by the window. At her companion's wordless command, Georgiana straightened, taking a lady-like step back from the window and folding her hands uselessly at her waist.

"No, he remains in Scotland with Elizabeth - that is his new wife, you know." She sighed, turning the name over in her mind. "My new sister."

"I am sure they will come soon," Charlotte said, encouragingly. "And think of all the new skills you might demonstrate when they do. Your music comes along admirably, and your sewing -"

At this, Georgiana laughed.

"My brother will scarcely notice whether my stitches are correct, let alone how elegant and neat they are." She arched an eyebrow. "Or are not. Dear me, Charlotte, do you think gentlemen care for domestic arts? Music, I can understand a certain appreciation of, for everybody enjoys to hear it played and played well. But sewing?" She shook her head. "No, I need not fear my hatred of stitching be discovered and remarked upon by my brother, for William shall hardly give it a second thought, if he thinks of it at all."

Charlotte said nothing, merely smiled tautly and turned her attention back to the window. Georgiana felt sorry, then, for speaking so freely. Her companion had little in the way of a sense of humour, and she rarely knew how to react to Georgiana's self-deprecation. _Perhaps she fears it is indicative of my slide towards melancholy_ , Georgiana thought. But she was not melancholy. Oh, she had been. She had cried quarts over George Wickham, but at least part of that devastation had been the memory of William's face upon their discovery. He had looked so disappointed, but not in her, as she discovered later. He felt that what had happened was his fault, that he had failed her as a brother and as a guardian, for allowing things with Wickham to develop as they did. And then, once the situation was remedied, William had left again, as if he thought his presence there might make matters worse. He had sent Charlotte Parker in his stead, and Georgiana's life had become an endless number of days peppered with the sorts of pursuits that might make a young woman _accomplished_ , but did little to spark happiness.

She could not help but worry that her brother's decision to again delay his return to Pemberley was evidence of his still-conflicted feelings towards her now. _Why can we not be friends the way we used to be?_ she thought, staring blankly out at the deserted approach to Pemberley. For they had been friends, as well as being brother and sister. _Or in spite of it._ She permitted herself a small smile, recalling how, until quite recently, they had enjoyed spending time together, ignorant of the differences in their age or natural interests. She tolerated Darcy's expostulating on business or shooting or all manner of other gentlemanly pursuits, learning, as she listened, how his pastimes encouraged strength of mind as well as limb, and skill at managing that would ensure Pemberley's continuing to thrive long after their father's death. He had not merely tolerated but encouraged her to talk often and in detail of her developing musical tastes, and had always been quick to encourage her to play for him. She had learned to tell, from the tilt of his head this way or that, the enthusiastic glint in his eyes or the polite grimace that passed for a smile, whether he approved of a piece of music or not. She would choose accordingly, then, depending on what trials the day had given him. The ease of their being together had vanished in one short visit to Ramsgate. With one look the spell was broken and now, it seemed, William could not bear to be with her by himself. He could not bear to be with her _at all_ , for his last note, the note that announced the arrival, today, of Mr Charles Bingley and his sister, had suggested Georgiana might care to continue on with them to their destination, Mr Hurst's estate, Lattimer Place, some three miles' distance. It had felt, at first, like banishment, for every reason her brother had included in his note she dismissed out of hand. _A change of scenery_ _…Miss Bingley longs for your company…Elizabeth and my arrival may be a little delayed…_

She knew William well enough to know when he was not being entirely truthful. Tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them back. _We do not want you here. My wife and I prefer our privacy. You are a constant reminder of my failings as a brother._

"Here comes their carriage!" Charlotte exclaimed, pointing into the distance, and Georgiana drew in a shaky breath, willing her emotions back into check. She would have time to consider all this at length later, she decided, pulling her features into a smile, ready to meet her guests.


	2. Chapter 2

"How wonderful it is to be at Pemberley again!" Mr Bingley said, with a comfortable sigh. Georgiana smiled, pleased to see her brother's old friend so at home in their parlour. She liked Charles, for he always took time to speak to her and was a jolly, friendly sort of character, very different to her reserved brother, and his perfect companion, she wagered, for that particular reason.

"I hope your journey has not rendered you too exhausted, Miss Bingley?" Georgiana asked, turning her attention to his sister, who sat primly on an elegant seat opposite and admired the bright room.

"Oh, well, Georgiana, you know how tiring it is to travel!" Caroline giggled. "But it is always so rejuvenating to be reunited with old friends, do not you think so?"

"Indeed." Georgiana smiled. She did not know Caroline Bingley as well as Charles, for she was a later addition to the small circle in Derbyshire, but the young woman had always been friendly to her. Too friendly, perhaps, for Georgiana had nursed a private suspicion that Miss Caroline Bingley had designs on William and was endeavouring to win the man by winning his sister. Georgiana sighed. _Poor Caroline,_ she thought. _I do hope she is not too upset by news of hi_ _s marrying._

"I was surprised to see, from my brother's note, that you had all been in Scotland!" Georgiana said, recalling the mystery that had nestled in her mind as she read William's hurried missive. Here, at last, she might find answers to some of her questions. "I thought you all settled in London: indeed I had rather looked forward to finding my way there myself, once I heard of William's news -" she stopped speaking, suddenly, realising that if Caroline was nursing a disappointment then it was unkind to make a mention of it so cavalierly. "That is, once I realised he was poised to stay in London for some time."

Caroline's eyes widened as large as saucers, and she turned a speechless gaze towards her brother, who cleared his throat and sat forward, his elbows on his knees.

"Ah, yes. Well, you see…the thing is - the reason for…" he paused, dropping his gaze to the floor. "It was a very sudden flight."

"Mr Darcy had gone on alone, you see," Caroline said, her words coming out slowly, but gaining in pace and confidence as her answer fell from her lips. "He had word of-of an incident involving a friend of his and hurried to be of some assistance. Poor Eliza felt quite bereft, abandoned so suddenly by her new husband, and so we decided to accompany her on her own journey, after him. Is that not so, Charles?"

"Quite!" Charles laughed, but the sound was one of relief rather than any sort of humour.

"That is quite a journey to embark on for the sake of a friend," Georgiana said, with a shrewd glance from sister to brother.

"Oh, it is not as if we had any great desire to remain in London!" Charles said, cheerfully. Watching the interplay of shadows over his sister's face, however, Georgiana wondered how true this was for Caroline. Surely she would have far rather remained in the hustle and bustle of the _ton_ with plenty of friends to see and dances and exhibitions to occupy her than to hurry northwards in a hectic and uncomfortable journey.

"Well, you must be very good friends, in that case," Georgiana said, leaning closer to Caroline and adopting a confidential tone. "Tell me, what is Elizabeth like? I have not met her, you see, although my brother has striven to write to me of her." She smiled, wryly. "You know one can hardly trust a brother's pen to convey the true nature of anything, particularly the character and looks of his beloved. William is not given to effusion, so I have had to read between the lines and construct my own picture of my new sister, which I am sure is not at all an accurate one. You knew her in Hertfordshire, did not you?"

"We did," Caroline said, quietly.

"Elizabeth is a most wonderful young lady!" Charles said, beaming. "Quite pretty, you know, with dark hair and eyes that always suggest she is thinking a darn sight more than she says - although she does say a great deal!"

"My brother is trying to say that Eliza is possessed of a number of opinions on many different subjects." Caroline tossed her head. "I do not care for young ladies that must always exalt in the sound of their own voice, but I dare say it meets with Mr Darcy's approval, or else he would not have married her, would he?"

Georgiana's smile fell just a fraction, as she discerned Caroline's not entirely flattering opinion of her new sister. Instead of setting Georgiana against her, though, it actually endeared the absent and unknown Elizabeth to her a little more strongly. She was pleased to think that William had married someone with intelligence, wit, charm: all characteristics that Caroline believed herself to be in possession of but was not altogether successful at showcasing.

"I look forward to knowing her soon," Georgiana said, at last. "I rather think perhaps I ought to stay here to greet them…"

"You can't!" Caroline's response was instinctive and immediate, accompanied by a sharp exchange of glance between brother and sister. "That is, Georgie, dear…I thought your brother had written to you of our express desire that you join us at Lattimer Place." She glanced around the room once more, affecting dissatisfaction. "Surely you are tired of rattling around such a large house all by yourself?"

"But I am not by myself," Georgiana said, turning to acknowledge her companion, who sat close to the door and busied herself with her own needlework. "Charlotte has been a most amiable companion."

"Charlotte!" Caroline sniffed, as if the notion that Georgiana could find true friendship with a paid companion was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. In truth, Georgiana agreed. She would much rather be with those friends she chose for herself, and who were with her by choice, rather than because of prior arrangement and payment, but something nettled her in Caroline's superior manner. _She_ disliked Charlotte on account of the young woman's poverty, whereas Georgiana had been taught to value a person's character and position. Charlotte's family had fallen on hard times, that much was true, but she was a distant cousin to some of the first families in England. She had more claim to social standing than Caroline Bingley, and Georgiana felt a sudden desire to point out the disparity, which she overcame only by sheer force of will, and the thought that she must not alienate those people who were about to become her hosts before they had even reached Lattimer Place.

"Your companion is welcome to join you, Miss Darcy," Charles said, glancing over at the shy Charlotte, whose attention was fixed upon her work as she pretended not to hear herself being discussed in this way.

"I think that hardly necessary, Charles!" Caroline bristled. "Why, Miss Darcy shall have me as a companion, not to mention Mrs Hurst! What need have we for paid attendants? You may bring your lady's maid, of course, for a servant is hardly a friend!" Caroline laughed at such a comical notion.

"But my brother -"

"I am sure Mr Darcy did not foresee his plans changing so swiftly," Caroline said, putting a decided end to any further objection Georgiana might mount. "In any case, there is no room." She paused. "That is, Lattimer Place is quite expansive and well enough equipped to serve us admirably, but we do not wish to put Mr and Mrs Hurst to any trouble, do we?"

It was on the tip of Georgiana's tongue to suggest that if a desire not to trouble Mr and Mrs Hurst was uppermost in Caroline Bingley's mind, then she might leave Georgiana right where she was, and settle the matter thus. Instead, she took a deep breath and smiled at brother and sister.

"Of course. Please excuse me a moment, for I must ensure that Charlotte will not be unduly inconvenienced by my departure." She crossed to the hallway, gesturing to her companion to accompany her a few steps from the room, where they might converse without being overheard by her guests.

"Charlotte, I am very sorry, but it seems that with my uprooting to Lattimer Place, I will no longer be requiring a paid companion." She offered a pained smile to the young lady who had become almost a fixture, albeit a reluctant one, of her life these past weeks. "I trust you will not be left wanting if our association ends a little earlier than you expected?"

"Oh, no, Miss Darcy!" Charlotte smiled. "Why, Mr Darcy wrote to me himself thanking me for my service to both you and him. He suggested that it would not be necessary for me to accompany you to Lattimer Place, and enclosed a very generous donation in compensation for this change." She dropped a small curtsey. "You mustn't worry about me! Although I do hope we may meet again, for I have enjoyed our conversations very much."

Impulsively, Georgiana threw her arms around the girl, suddenly feeling as if the earth was shifting beneath her. She had cared little enough for Charlotte's presence in the interminable days at Pemberley, but now, knowing that they would be separated, she began to realise what a constant friend she had been. Someone, however dull and unremarkable, to stave off the loneliness in the absence of Georgiana's family.

"We will perhaps see each other in town," Georgiana said, brightly. "For I certainly do not wish to while away the spring as I did the winter. And Lattimer Place is that bit nearer Newton that I am sure I shall find a reason to journey in on occasion." She smiled. "You must promise me to always say hello when you see me and tell me how your family are doing."

This offer of continuing friendship touched Charlotte deeply and she blinked rapidly to stave off tears.

"Now, do not feel you must attend us any longer. I am sure you are eager to gather your own belongings and not have to wait until we are gone."

Georgiana returned to the parlour, endeavouring to begin her own preparations for departure, but in her absence, Charles and Caroline had lapsed into a whispered conversation, whose urgent tones reached Georgiana's ears as she crossed the threshold back into the room.

"I do not know how much longer I might keep this secret, Charles!" Caroline exclaimed, her voice nought but a stage whisper. "Poor Georgiana must know, and soon. It is too cruel to keep it a secret!"

Georgiana's curiosity overruled her manners, and she stepped a little closer.

"Keep what a secret?"


	3. Chapter 3

The journey from Scotland to Pemberley ought to have been a hundred times more comfortable than the journey either Darcy or Elizabeth had taken to reach Scotland in the first place. The sense of anxiety, of urgency, that made rapid progress a priority at the expense of personal comfort was gone, but Elizabeth found that was no guarantee of pleasant travels.

The interior of the carriage she and her husband shared with Mr and Mrs Wickham might just as well have been a mile's distance. Two miles. Twenty. It was as if an impenetrable wall existed between the two couples, for, after a few stilted attempts at polite conversation, everyone had lapsed into silence. Elizabeth tried to admire the scenery they passed, but even that small enjoyment faded with the light. Anne appeared to sleep, her head nestled into the corner of the carriage. Lizzy herself had always doubted anyone's ability to sleep in a carriage, no matter how exhausted, on account of the motion, and the occasional movement that Anne exhibited suggested that she did not, in fact, sleep at all. Nobody sought to disturb her, however, for she seemed still on the precipice of ill-health and any rest would be of benefit. She was frailer, still, than she had been the night of their meal when this journey was first discussed.

 _She will soon recover, once we are at Pemberley_ , Lizzy thought. The words had become a prayer of sorts, stilling any rising anxieties that crept over her when she thought of what awaited them in Derbyshire. If she had not already been anxious at the thought of becoming mistress to so grand an estate as Pemberley, she was certainly heavily burdened with care about it now.

She shifted in her seat, the movement drawing the attention of her husband beside her, who lifted his eyes to hers in silent inquiry. She smiled, but Darcy's face remained grim.

Despite the suggestion of all four of them - she and Darcy, Anne and Wickham - returning to Pemberley, he did not seem at all enamoured with the idea, now that it was coming to pass. He and Wickham had passed the day in stony silence, leaving the burden of conversation to Elizabeth and Anne, who seemed thankfully unaware of the tension that existed between the two men. Reaching for Darcy's hand, she squeezed it once in encouragement and was herself cheered to feel him return the slight pressure. The ghost of a smile haunted his face, before he looked away, fixing his gaze on the darkening horizon as they continued their progress south.

"You have not seen Pemberley yet, I believe, Mrs Darcy?" George Wickham seemed intent on breaking the silence at last, and Lizzy found herself the target for his conversation.

"No," she admitted, with a quiet laugh. "Although I feel at a disadvantage in admitting it. Everybody else in our party seems to have spent time there and adored it. I look forward to being suitably enamoured with my new home, once we arrive."

"Oh, you will be," Wickham said, his voice smooth. Lizzy's brows knit together. He was teasing her, she thought, but could not discern his mode or his reason. The mere fact that he sought to engage her in conversation seemed to be enough to draw Darcy's attention, and he sighed, loudly, crossing one foot over the over and turning to address Wickham directly.

"What say you to ceasing our travels at the next stop, Wickham?" The rise in his intonation suggested a question but there was no invitation to disagree. Wickham seemed poised to counter the suggestion, though, if only to agitate Darcy. At the last moment, however, something shifted in his countenance, and he shrugged his shoulders.

"As you wish, William. I am sure the ladies will be eager to rest from our day's journey." His voice dropped from teasing to something bordering on gentle, as he regarded the sleeping figure of his wife. Almost on reflex he reached for the rug that Anne had worn over her lap and pulled it up to her shoulders, ensuring she was warm. There was a tenderness in the action that did not escape Lizzy's observation but had rather less effect on Darcy, who swallowed a groan and turned to stare ever more fixedly out into the night. The carriage was noisy, Darcy's reaction low, yet still Wickham seemed to sense it, glancing over towards his old foe, his features freezing momentarily, before dropping to something that might have been despair. The change occurred so swiftly, and disappeared just as fast, that Elizabeth could not be sure that she did not imagine it, and when Wickham shifted his gaze to hers, he was his old self again, a rakish half-smile playing about his lips.

"I am sure you did not imagine your married life beginning with such adventures, Miss Bennet." His smile grew. "I apologise. _Mrs Darcy_. It seems I never shall get used to calling you by your new name, for I never can forget knowing you at Hertfordshire. Tell me, how are your sisters? One married, I believe?"

"Mary," Elizabeth said shortly. Her voice was a little strained, but she was unable to say whether that was due to raising it above the noise of the carriage or the awkwardness of conversing with the man her husband so obviously disliked. Darcy had stiffened next to her with Wickham's words of address and she sensed he did not relax a single muscle while their discussion continued.

"Ah, yes. The Colonel's new wife." Wickham's lips quirked at the mention of Darcy's cousin. He was his own cousin, now, too, although that was not a thought Lizzy would hurry to remind any party of. Darcy's dislike of Wickham was barely constrained, by appearance and obligation, but Colonel Fitzwilliam's would be nowhere near so thoroughly tempered. Lizzy was grateful that he and Mary were still in London, and might not be forced into early interaction with the new Mr and Mrs Wickham.

"That accounts for two of you. What of the other…." Wickham affected to tally the sisters in his head. "Three?" He smiled, wolfishly. "I cannot imagine your elder sister to still find herself at home. There was some talk of her forming an attachment of a kind with dear old Charles, but perhaps not, if he is to stay in Derbyshire instead of returning to Netherfield…"

"Nothing was ever settled." Lizzy seethed. He was toying with her, watching the effects his words had on her reactions. She lifted her chin, drawing her lips into a tight smile. "Yet we none of us know what the future holds. If I am to be mistress of Pemberley, after all, I might invite her to visit."

"And play matchmaker, reuniting the two across the dales." Wickham shook his head. "What else is a married lady to do than plot and scheme a way for all her relations and friends to find their own matrimonial bliss, after all?"

"Plot? Scheme?" Lizzy laughed, humourlessly. "Mr Wickham, you certainly seem to have a low enough opinion of me if that is what you expect. Or do you consider all women to share your manipulative streak?"

She heard Darcy attempt to disguise a snort of laughter as a cough and willed herself to hold Wickham's gaze firm, unflinching. His smile had not faltered, but she fancied his eyes narrowed a fraction, and, at last, he was the first to look away.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N - so sorry for the delay in posting this! I was away for a conference this past weekend and forgot to upload a chapter on Friday before I left. Oops!_

* * *

George hovered in the small space between the bed and the window in the narrow room he and Anne had taken at the small staging inn that was their home for the night. He fancied he could detect the faintest hint of voices from Darcy and Elizabeth's room some distance away, but perhaps it was his own wishful thinking that his travelling companions should be as unsettled as he.

As if his thoughts disturbed her, Anne shuffled in the bed, murmuring something incoherent in her sleep. Wickham held his breath, waiting to see if she would stir and wake, but she seemed to recede back to sleep and he let out a low exhale. He opened his small flask and lifted it to his lips, grateful that the fellow behind the bar had not been averse to filling it for a few coins. He'd never survive the rest of the journey without a nip or two.

Anne shivered, and he reached over and pulled the sheets up to her chin, recalling offering the same service in the carriage. This time, his fingers brushed Anne's shoulders and he drew his hand away in shock. She was not cold, but burning up. He laid a hand tentatively over her forehead, which felt warm to the touch and strangely clammy, and brushed back the wisps of hair that had escaped her nightcap.

 _Do not fall ill, dear!_ he pleaded, silently. He had known she was sickening even in their short stay in Scotland but had convinced himself that travel would dispel whatever melancholy threatened to settle over his new bride. Her breathing would clear once they left the icy highlands, and she would recover her energy once she was eating more regular meals. Alas, she seemed even less herself than she had been a day ago, and Wickham's anxiety grew. Here, in the safety of their own room and with no audience to observe it, he allowed himself to murmur a penitent, hopeful prayer. _Oh, Lord. Do not punish Anne for my mistakes. Make her well again._ A memory flitted through him, fleeting and ephemeral, of sitting beside his father in church and hearing the old man's hoarse whisper. _Trust in the Lord with all your heart, George, and He will direct your steps._ He blinked, and the memory was gone. Trust God? He had done almost the opposite of that, demanding the living that had been promised him in money and abandoning the faith his father had shown in him twice over. More. He shook his head. _I do not ask for me. I know I do not deserve to ask anything. But Anne is so good, so patient_ _…I do not deserve her._

This was the thought that had been haunting him since the meal they had all shared, where it had been decided that he and Anne would return to Pemberley with Darcy and Elizabeth, his friend offering him one last chance to make something of his life. _Not me,_ he corrected. _Anne. He offers Anne a chance at a better life: as hers is now joined to mine, I benefit by proximity._ He had told himself that convincing Anne to run away and marry him in secret had been because any conventional suit would have been forbidden out of hand by Lady Catherine, but the truth was far more shameful. He knew that if Anne knew his true character, knew even a fraction of the misdeeds he had committed in his short time on Earth, that she would shun him, herself. Their paths had crossed almost by accident, and, once crossed, he could not let go the dream that someone so good could care for him. The fact of her dowry was of a secondary concern, but, deny it though he might want to, it was a concern. _People who have always had wealth and status cannot imagine how one struggles to get by in life without it._ Now, it seemed, providence had turned its plan upside down. He had secured the wife, but not the wealth, and she had begun already to change him, to make him love her, though it might be too late…

He kicked out, then, on reflex reacting to the thought that had come, unbidden, to terrorize him. His knee connected with the heavy wooden bedframe, and he cursed, which sound and motion jolted Anne awake.

"George?" She asked, squinting into the darkness to make out his shadow.

"I am here," he said, perching on the edge of the bed and reaching a hand out to her. "Go back to sleep, dearest. I did not mean to wake you."

"Why do you not sleep?" she asked, stifling a yawn. "Surely you are as tired as I am from the journey." She shivered. "Well, perhaps not as tired as I…lately I seem to be exhausted always, and no matter how much I rest I never quite feel like myself." She threaded her fingers through his, smoothing his knuckles with her delicate fingertips.

"I am…thinking," Wickham whispered, slipping the treacherous flask to the floor, where she would not notice it.

"Thinking." Anne shook her head. "Worrying is more accurate a word, I imagine. You must not fret, so! William welcomes us to Pemberley. Once we are settled there, we might begin our lives properly, together. It is a pleasant estate, you'll see. I recall it well."

"As do I," Wickham reminded her, gently. "Or do you forget I spent more of my childhood at Pemberley than you did?"

"Of course!" Anne laughed, pausing to cough and settle her breath once more. "I did forget! Forgive me. How long ago that must have been. Yet you will have friends on the estate, surely? Family, perhaps?"

"No." Wickham's voice was low. "No family still living. And friends…" His own laugh was a grim echo of Anne's, but she did not notice - or chose not to remark upon - its bitterness. "You do not know my past, Anne. I am glad you do not. But at Pemberley…you might hear talk…"

"What talk!" Anne scoffed. "Who can claim to know a husband better than his wife?"

"His wife of but a few weeks," Wickham protested. "There are people in Derbyshire who knew me when I was a boy."

"I have little enough interest in hearing of your childhood scrapes, George, unless they contribute to who you are today. My own handsome, brave husband."

"Brave?" Wickham frowned, turning once more to regard his wife. "You think me brave?"

"Certainly I do. You said yourself you have no family still living. Yet you do not despair. You find friends wherever you go, and you have made your life entirely your own. I have scarcely left Kent, and when I have, it has been at my mother's side. I scarcely can imagine uprooting and going anywhere alone."

"Well now, dear, you do not have to." Wickham leant over and dropped a soft kiss on Anne's forehead, smoothing the pillow beneath her head. "I am here, and you need not ever fear to go anywhere alone."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N - Thank you for all the reads and comments - I am so glad you are enjoying my stories!_

 _Just a heads- up, if you are/have been reading the other stories I have up on here. I am taking some of them down (this series will stay up for now and definitely until its complete). The Collins Conundrum, The Wickham Wager and The Darcy Decision will be coming down later this week so if you are midway through reading that series you have a bit of warning._

 _Ok, back to_ this _story. Enjoy!_

* * *

 _George Wickham is married!_ Georgiana had had a day to digest the news. Charles Bingley had been unwilling to tell her, except that, having heard her former paramour's name on her friend's lips, she would not let the matter rest without hearing the truth. It had been Caroline, then, who delivered the blow.

"He is married, Georgiana, dear. It is quite a surprise to all of us."

"And his bride? Is she - is she known to us?"

This had caused still more awkward looks between brother and sister, and Charles Bingley flushed up to his ears, before finally confessing the full weight of the secret they had been keeping.

"I am sorry to say she is, Miss Darcy. He has married your cousin, Miss de Bourgh."

"Anne?" Quite how Georgiana had managed to respond to this was unknown to her, still. She had muttered some nonsense about being so surprised she could scarcely believe it, and bleated still more about how delighted and thrilled she was for both of them, but very surprised, and to the relief of all present, the topic had been swiftly and decidedly changed to their planned visit to Lattimer Place. The short carriage ride had been endurable only in silence, yet Caroline had twittered on about all the delights of the house that she longed to introduce Georgiana too. Georgiana had managed to liken her to a fly buzzing about her face, and paid her no more attention, instead returning her thoughts to the news of George and Anne. It had been this way all evening. An affectation of interest in whatever happened around her, and internally recalling that George and Anne were married. She hoped she had been polite to Mr and Mrs Hurst for, despite having spent the evening in their presence, she could scarcely recall a single thing that had been discussed at the dining table. They had demanded music of her, too, for, hearing that she was a talented and graceful piano player, they wished her to contribute to their evening's entertainment. She had played flawlessly, but without passion, for it was as if she was not the real Georgiana Darcy but an automaton of the same name.

Retiring, at last, she reached her room and once her maid had readied her for bed, she closed the door at last, grateful for sanctuary. She reached into her case, pulling out the book that she kept with her always, her bible. Upending it, she held tight to the spine and shook the little volume, watching a handful of notes rain down on the bedspread. Lifting her candle closer, she shuffled through them, recognising George Wickham's spidery handwriting on each. She chose one at random, unfolding it and smoothing it out on the bed.

 _Dearest Georgiana,_

 _I wish you could know how much I miss you. I am called away to business but am already plotting my escape. Promise me that you shall find your way to the pump rooms this coming Tuesday, around about the hour of noon. I shall happen upon you entirely by accident and, as a friend of your brother, take it upon myself to see that you and your beastly guardian are treated to refreshments. I know it will not be the same as_ etre seuls ensemble _, but it cannot be helped. We do not wish to court scandal in broad daylight, my love!_

With the sweep of an arm, she cast the letters aside. Had he sent similar missives to Anne? At the same time, perhaps? She shuddered. How could such a gentleman exist? No - he was no gentleman.

"There must be some mistake," she murmured aloud, setting her candle down beside her bed, and retrieving her letters. In her heart, she knew the only mistake had been hers, in feeling more sympathy for George Wickham than he deserved. He had trifled with her: encouraged her in an affection which was little more than a game to him. No wonder Darcy had been so angry, and so determined that the pair be parted. A hot flush crept over Georgiana's face and she sank her head into her hands. How ashamed she was! She had put the affair in the past, and would not wish George Wickham back in her life, were they ever to cross paths again. But that she had ever indulged in the notion that this was a real romance made her question the notion that she had ever truly known what love was.

"Perhaps it is _all_ just stories," she said, miserably sitting up on the bed and leaning the corner of one note into the flame. The tiny paper caught, flaring and crumbling to ash in a moment. Its friends followed, one after another, a charred pile of ash, a sacrifice on the altar of romance.

She had dared to think that William had found true affection at last with this Elizabeth Bennet, but she had no notion of the woman. Perhaps this was a lie, too, and the wedding was merely a transaction. William had such skill at business, and the marriage was formed so quickly. _Well, Elizabeth Bennet may have bought her way into my brother_ _'s heart, but I will not be so easily won._

Thus decided, she extinguished the candle and lay back, folding her fingers around the one note that remained, a memento of past foolishness, a totem for future wisdom. _I will not be so foolish as to feel any true affection again. No spark of friendship, no love. It is all a lie. I shall be practical, only, and play the game as well as any gentleman,_ she promised the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

Darcy relished the cold morning air, the way the frozen ground crunched beneath his boots as he walked. Had made a spurious excuse at the breakfast table, claiming he needed to discuss some particulars of their journey with the driver of their carriage before they embarked upon it. In truth, he merely wished for a moment alone to gather his thoughts.

Not for the first time since quitting Scotland, he wondered at the wisdom of the plan. It was one thing to support Anne and her new husband from afar, quite another to have them on the estate. A part of him wished he had remained determined, for in the cold light of day the notion of offering Wickham such assistance seemed absurd. What was to say the fellow would not cause still more trouble within the boundaries of Pemberley?

"There you are!" Elizabeth's voice broke through the turning of Darcy's thoughts, and he glanced up as his wife stepped lightly towards him. "Is everything arranged?"

Darcy frowned, puzzled until he recalled his excuse for being outside, to begin with. He nodded, vaguely, and offered his arm to Elizabeth, who took it and accompanied him on his slow turn on the path.

"I feared for half a moment that you were contriving to leave our guests behind," she remarked, with a sly smile.

"Are my true feeling so very plain?"

"Only to me." Elizabeth laughed faintly. "Perhaps because I share them."

Darcy glanced back at her, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. It was one thing for him to change his mind, to cast aside the man he had so recently offered assistance to, but if the reason came from another quarter…

"Oh, you need not worry, I am not about to insist on our plans changing." Elizabeth sighed. "It is just that your Mr Wickham can be…infuriating."

"He is hardly _my_ Mr Wickham," Darcy said, sourly. "But as you were so keen to reassure me, he is part of our family, now, and must be treated as such."

They continued to walk in silence a moment before Darcy enquired further.

"He has not acted improperly…?"

"No," Lizzy rolled her eyes skywards. "He just has an uncanny ability to unsettle one. I rather think he enjoys it and seeks to use his conversation as a weapon even at the breakfast table."

That such verbal sparring should frustrate Elizabeth, when she was so good at it herself, struck Darcy as immediately amusing, and he could not conceal a laugh, which provoked a glare from his wife.

"It amuses you to see your wife in a bad temper, I see," she grumbled.

"It amuses me to see my wife at a loss for words," Darcy said. "When so often she has been the cause of such a circumstance in my own life." He smiled. "On how many occasions have you had the perfect sentence on the tip of your tongue and brandished it, successfully forcing me into frustrated silence?" His smile darkened. "I am less amused to see Wickham still striving for the upper hand, seeking to cause grief even in those who would be of assistance to him."

"I do not believe he does it to cause grief. I think he is worried, though he would never admit as much, and teasing allows some vent for his feelings."

"Worried?" Darcy scoffed. "And what has he to be worried about?"

There was a sound at the entrance of the inn that silenced any answer Elizabeth might have given, and they looked up to see the frustrating Mr Wickham appear, with Anne on his arm. It struck Darcy, watching their progress, that Wickham did more than merely escort his wife out towards the carriage. He gave her his arm, and she leaned on it so heavily that he half carried her the short distance to where Darcy and Elizabeth stood. His cousin smiled, but, Darcy wagered, it was not without effort.

"Is the carriage ready?" Wickham asked, in a tone that Darcy might have taken for criticism, were it not for the concern that rendered his face pale.

"Yes, just a few steps this way," he said, turning and offering Anne his own arm.

After a moment of hesitation, she took it, and Darcy shot his wife a sympathetic glance, praying that Wickham would have tired of whatever teasing he had done at the table that had so irritated his wife. He did not fret over Elizabeth's ability to defend herself against the slings and arrows of Wickham and his mouth, for he knew his wife to be wittier and better equipped at conversation than anyone.

"Are you quite well, Anne?" he asked, kindly, turning his attention back to his cousin, who clutched tight to his arm as they walked. "We need not press on quite yet if you want another hour to rest."

"No, I already feel like I have delayed our progress with my need to rest." Anne shook her head, wryly. "I must not be responsible for still more delay. And in any case, I do not feel that rest will benefit me." She drew in a heavy breath. "I want to see Pemberley again. It has been so long since I was there. Tell me, what have you done to the place?"

Darcy began, haltingly, to tell of the modifications and improvements he had made to his family estate, small changes that benefitted himself or his tenants. He recalled to mind several such tenant families that had been known to Anne on her sporadic visits to Pemberley when the two cousins were children, and happily provided some details of their successes and failures, the children who had grown and birthed children of their own. He was talking more than ever he would have done previously, reaching for useless details that would distract both his cousin and himself. They had had little time together to speak freely since Anne's marriage, either by Wickham's design or Darcy's own decision. He felt strangely reserved around her and wished for the freedom to converse as they had in times past. It was not merely her marriage that had rendered her so unreachable, but the fact that the marriage had followed a relationship conducted almost entirely in secret, and for how long? Darcy could not help himself wondering what other secrets she still hid from view, how true a picture of his cousin he even possessed. And then, there was the apparent decline in her health. Darcy himself felt responsible for the breathing that seemed to become more laboured by the day, the pale features that, though illuminated with a smile, still did little to reassure Darcy that his cousin rallied.

"The Lodge," Darcy began, clearing his throat. "Pemberley Lodge has stood open this past year. I wonder, with some simple improvements, if that would not make a comfortable home for you and Mr Wickham."

"Really"? Anne turned shining eyes towards him. "We might have our own house?"

Darcy bowed his head.

"It is not a fine house," he protested. "And a great deal smaller than you are used to, I fear -"

"It will be perfect." Anne's eyes glittered. "Tell me, do roses still wind around the windows as they did when we were children?"

Darcy laughed, surprised and see to hear such a comment pass his cousin's lips. She was as she had been, at least in some ways.

"I could not tell you!" he admitted. "Although either way, I doubt they will flower in the depths of winter." He glanced up. "Here is our carriage, Anne, can you manage?"


	7. Chapter 7

Georgiana slipped into the small music room and closed the door quietly behind her. She was grateful for a few moments' solitude and silence, neither of which had been afforded to her in any great measure yet that day. She had known that staying at Lattimer Place with not only Mr and Miss Bingley for company but that house's owners, Mr and Mrs Hurst, would require rather more social interaction than she was used to, but she had not, until today, fully appreciated just how demanding her friends could be. Particularly Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley who, whilst tolerably friendly in their own ways became unbearable when combined. Georgiana had never before been grateful to have no sister: indeed it had long been a private lament that she had no intimate female friends, as she assumed sisters to easily become. But having seen first-hand the baiting and cruelty that passed for interaction between Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, she was rather grateful to have but one family member living, and he a brother.

She tiptoed towards the piano and settled herself on the stool, not intending to play, for fear of being overheard and thus betraying her location to the rest of the house, but for the peace that the familiar position offered her. She laid her fingertips lightly over the keys, settling on a chord but not pressing down on it, instead able to conjure the sound within her own imagination. She smiled, selecting another, and enjoying her game of silent recital. She was so lost in her play that when the door opened it startled her so much that she sank her fingertips down, crashing the keys noisily into life.

"Oh!" she cried.

"Caro, I -" Mr Bingley was almost as startled to see Georgiana sitting, alone, at the piano as Georgiana was to be discovered. It only took him a moment to recover his composure, though, and greet her with a good-natured smile.

"Good morning, Georgiana! How are you today?" he peered around the door as if he might find Caroline lurking somewhere just out of sight. "You haven't seen my sister around anywhere have you?"

Tight-lipped, Georgiana shook her head.

"What are you doing in here all alone?" he asked, momentarily distracted from his pursuit. "Has Caroline left you to amuse yourself? I will have a word with her about that if I ever find her…"

"Oh, no!" Georgiana said, standing quickly and pushing back the piano stool. "You mustn't! I am quite alright. That is, I quite like having time to myself. Sometimes."

"And here I have blundered in and spoiled it!" Mr Bingley was all apology. "I am sorry. Here, look, I will go away again and leave you to your practice, only -" he tilted his head to one side, in an expression of confusion. "Well, what were you playing? For I didn't hear a note. If I had, I wouldn't have thrown the door open in that obnoxious manner and frightened you half to death."

"I hadn't started yet," Georgiana said, quickly. She could feel her cheeks blazing with heat and decided that any explanation of her silent playing would seem absurd. "I was just about to begin when you came in." She reached over and closed the piano's lid, quickly. "But it isn't important. What is the matter? Can I help at all?"

"I was planning to ride into town and as Caroline had mentioned some notions she wished to purchase, wanted to see if I could procure them for her. Or…" he smiled, wanly, indicating that this second suggestion was far less preferred. "Whether she would like to accompany me."

"Does she ride?" Georgiana was surprised by this suggestion, finding she could not easily picture Miss Caroline Bingley atop a horse.

"Caroline?" Mr Bingley burst into laughter. "Law, no. She won't go near horses. Hates them. Well, that is, she likes 'em well enough when they're rigged up to a carriage and can take her hither and yon with someone else to see to driving them. But ride one herself, for pleasure?" He shook his head. "No. Not my sister."

Georgiana found herself smiling at Mr Bingley's effusive explanation. She liked Charles Bingley best of all Darcy's friends, which was not saying much, for her brother was sparing with his affection, outside of that which he had always shown her, and counted few people as fond acquaintances, fewer still as friends. To be, as Charles Bingley had been, a good friend for half of Darcy's life, almost as long as Georgiana could clearly remember, was a feat in itself that spoke more to Mr Bingley's good character than Fitzwilliam Darcy's.

"What a pity," she said, shyly returning to the topic of horses, one which, courtesy of having a brother who put great stock in learning about the animals, she felt able to contribute a little without looking too foolish. "I often think there is little that can compete with the freedom one finds in riding, providing the countryside is pleasant and the horse obedient, of course." She permitted a slight smile, recalling one particularly disobedient horse that had thrown Darcy more than once into a puddle and had been despaired of ever being any use. Georgiana had taken it upon herself to master the animal, and, unbeknownst to her brother, had worked with it daily, taking the groom into her confidence. It had been worth all the subterfuge, for the moment of shock that slackened her brother's jaw one spring afternoon, when she had trotted up to him atop _that devilish mare_ to demonstrate both horse and rider's dressage skills.

"Do you ride, Miss Georgiana?" Mr Bingley asked, an expression of surprise and awe crossing his face. "I am all astonishment! I felt certain you preferred to stay indoors - that is, that your affection for music overtook any other interest."

"Are young ladies not permitted the enjoyment of more than one hobby, Mr Bingley?" she asked, a lightly teasing tone sneaking into her voice.

"No, indeed! It is admirable when a young lady is so accomplished as to excel in more than one thing! I dof my hat to you, Miss Georgiana, or I would if I were wearing it. Next, you shall tell me you are able to shoot down a brace of birds without a moment's hesitation!" He laughed at his own joke, but Georgiana's smile faltered a fraction, which fortunately went unnoticed by her host. _Perhaps I oughtn_ _'t to confess I am an able, if disinterested, shot,_ she thought, her eyes sparkling. She did not want to upturn all Charles Bingley's suppositions in one hour.

"I think, Mr Bingley, that your sister is in the parlour. Both sisters, in fact. I heard tell of their intention to take tea together."

"Tea! Now that is a fine suggestion. Come, Miss Georgiana, and join me, won't you? If my sisters become too unbearable we need only mention the word _horse_ and I quite guarantee it will silence them completely!"


	8. Chapter 8

Elizabeth was surprised to note the vibrant shade of green the grass maintained in Derbyshire as they reached the outskirts of Pemberley. She had half-expected more of the pale greyness that had pervaded the borders they had left behind. Indeed, it was still winter: there was no reason to expect anything other than pale light and hibernating greenery. Instead, she noticed the first hints of leaves on the trees and the occasional crocus. Hints that, however early in the year, spring was already on its way.

"Look out, Elizabeth," Mr Darcy murmured, in a tone intended for her ears only. "This shall be your first glance of Pemberley." His lips quirked. "Tis a better aspect, approaching from the south, but nonetheless." He pointed to a gap in the trees. "That is the house that shall be our home."

Elizabeth turned, eager to see the estate she had heard so much about, and so often mentioned in hushed tones, as if its mere name provoked a sense of awe and delight in those who knew it. Her expectations were not disappointed, for she saw a large, elegant house, perfectly set within impeccable grounds.

"It's beautiful!" she breathed.

"Oh, isn't it?" Anne said, leaning forward to admire the glimpse herself, and meeting Elizabeth's gaze with a smile. "I think you are rather too fond of the south-facing part of the house, William. I have always been partial to the cold light of the north."

"They were your father's rooms, were not they, William?" Wickham asked, but there was no trace of the gently mocking tone he normally adopted when speaking to Darcy. Indeed, he had said little at all as their carriage drew closer to their destination, choosing at one point to feign reading. Lizzy knew it was appearance, only, for his eyes remained fixed on one page for above a quarter hour. Then he had stared, unseeing, at the ground, and she had cause to wonder what thoughts consumed him, although she would not dare to ask.

"That's right," Darcy said, shortly. "And my mother favoured the south. In that way, we are alike, although I fear that is all we shared."

"Nonsense!" Anne protested. "I see her care and compassion reflected in your eyes every time you look upon us!"

This complimented unnerved Darcy, who shuffled awkwardly in his seat and strove to change the subject. Lizzy fancied he was pleased to hear the comparison, though, and took it to heart.

"We are not seeing at its best, anyway."

"No," Wickham offered, a vague smile flitting over his face. "Summer is always when Pemberley seems most alive."

Darcy lifted his eyes to Wickham's as if he could not quite determine the fellow's intent in making such a comment. To Elizabeth, it seemed apparent that Wickham was barely aware he had spoken the thought aloud, for the attention it won caused him to cough, awkwardly, and drop his gaze to the floor.

"That is the lodge," Darcy said, pointing to another, smaller house in the distance. "It will require some work yet before it is livable once more."

Anne turned smiling eyes towards the building, and Lizzy asked her husband a wordless question.

"And until it is, you are both more than welcome to stay at Pemberley as our guests."

This last was muttered so quietly that Elizabeth was unsure even Anne heard it, let alone Wickham. His cousin's grateful smile seemed to be confirmation enough to Darcy that his offer had been correct, and he did not need to look to Wickham for an acknowledgement. Lizzy did, however, and saw him staring still more fervently towards the ground. His lips, so often turned up in an easy, mocking smile, were drawn into a line, and there was no emotion evident in his features. If he had heard Darcy's offer, he showed no indication of it.

They continued the approach in silence, each regarding the house in their own way. Despite the awkwardness of their travelling party, Elizabeth strove to hold tight to the memory of their arrival, for this was the first time she would be seeing the estate that was to become her home and she wished to savour every moment.


	9. Chapter 9

"Stevens, it is good to see you again," Darcy said, greeting his butler with a smile. He nodded a curt, but not cold, greeting at the other household staff who had gathered to welcome their master, and led Elizabeth through the front entrance with anticipation.

"Well?" he asked, when she had made no immediate audible reaction.

"So this is Pemberley," Elizabeth whispered. She glanced across at him and he was pleased to see the light of excitement dancing in her eyes. "At last."

"At last."

Taking his arm, she nestled into his side and they began to walk comfortably together through the corridor that led to the rest of the house.

"Do you want to sit down? We might rest a while and leave the tour until later if you prefer?"

"Sit?" Lizzy was affronted. "My dear husband, I have been doing nothing but sitting for the past few days. No, show me the house, for it feels as if I have been eager to be here forever, and I cannot wait a moment longer before exploring!"

"Very well." Darcy smiled, pleased by his wife's enthusiasm for the home they would share. "I will just -" He turned behind them to where Wickham was walking with Anne. His old foe seemed somewhat awed to be back at Pemberley again, and there was such an expression of meekness upon his face that he looked suddenly a decade younger: a boy once more.

"Go on to the parlour, George," Darcy said, finding it easier to be polite to Wickham now that he was in his own home. The impulse surprised him, and he even ventured to extend a small smile. "I will have the servants send in some tea for you both, for it looks as if Anne, at least, is eager for some rest."

"Thank you, Darcy," Wickham's response was barely a whisper, and he turned his attention almost immediately back to Anne, who, Darcy noticed, leaned rather heavily on her husband's arm, as if she needed his strength to walk even the short distance to the sitting room. He followed their progress with his eyes until he felt the pressure of Elizabeth's hand on his arm.

"Where do you wish to show me first?" she asked, her eyes shining with interest.

"I know one room, above all others, that will draw your particular attention," Darcy said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Do you trust me to escort you there?"

Elizabeth frowned, nodding slowly.

"Good. Then close your eyes, for I wish it to be a surprise!"

Obediently, Lizzy's eyelids fluttered closed, and she moved with him, stumbling a little as she slid her feet along the smooth parquet floor.

"A few paces more…a little further…" Darcy muttered, guiding her past rooms that they would explore in time, to the one he had long held to as the first she must see upon their arrival at Pemberley. He had not been there himself for some time, but when he had married Elizabeth it had changed forever in his mind. It would be her room, from now on, and he gleefully imagined her delight upon seeing it. At last, they reached the door, a heavy rectangle of oak, and he let go of her arm just long enough to push it open. Reaching for her once more, he escorted her carefully over the threshold and into the room, turning her slightly so that she was positioned to best appreciate the warm afternoon light that entered through high windows.

"There. You may open your eyes, Mrs Darcy."

Her eyelids lifted, and she glanced around her, her smile of amusement becoming one of delight as she recognised the room's purpose.

"A library?" she breathed.

" _Your_ library," Darcy said, with a smile.

Elizabeth lifted her eyes to his, confused.

"It belonged to my mother, although the whole household has profited from its contents." Darcy took a step nearer to the high bookshelves, running his fingers across a series of leather-bound volumes. "She dedicated much of her time to choosing what pieces found their way here, ensuring they were of value or entertainment." He winked. "She, like you, did not despair of novels, although she was always sure to temper their enjoyment with something rather more serious." He searched, momentarily, for a familiar book, pulling it from its place and handing it to Elizabeth. "I think even Mrs Fitzwilliam would approve of certain books finding their home here."

Elizabeth glanced down at the volume he handed her and laughed. She wrapped her arms around Fordyce's sermons and held the book close to her chest.

"Yes, Mary would be delighted," she said, with a smile. Lifting her eyes to the tall shelves her words, when they came, were little more than a whisper.

"I cannot believe such a place exists! Look at all these books!"

"You will doubtless have read half of them before summer arrives," Darcy said, delighted by his wife's pleasure at the gift. "And you must add to it however you see fit. I am afraid I have been somewhat lax in keeping up to date with more recent publications, although Georgiana occasionally requests a certain book be purchased." He shook his head. "She is no great reader, although she occasionally finds some pleasure in escaping into an imagined world. More often than not, her requests have been for music rather than books. I will confess that the stock of volumes here may be dreadfully dated."

"There is no such thing!" Elizabeth scoffed. "A good book is a good book regardless of its age." She paced the wall, running her eyes and then her hand over the collection of books, pausing now and then to ease one out, to open it and examine a page, smile and return it to its home. "Is this really ours?"

"It is yours, Mrs Darcy, as it belonged to my mother. I keep my own choice of volumes in my study, as was my father's habit. And so this, I relinquish to be entirely your domain, to do with and spend time in as you wish."

Elizabeth turned back to him, a warm smile lifting her features.

"It is too much!" she exclaimed.

"It is hardly enough!" Darcy reached for her. "For the wife who would traverse the country to assist me, and forever seeks to be my help and friend." They kissed. "Come, though, for our guests will wonder what on earth has become of us."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at his easy mention of the Wickhams as _our guests_ , and Darcy himself was surprised at how natural the word had sounded on his lips. He smiled, ruefully.

"I ever could have imagined that I would be beginning my married life at Pemberley with George Wickham as my guest."

"Let us not dwell on how we imagined our lives might be," Elizabeth said, wrapping her arms around his. "For I could never have dreamed I would become the mistress of Pemberley, possessor of so fine a library as this, or wife to Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"No, I am quite sure the thought never dared to register with you!" he said, remembering how bitterly they had disliked each other at one point in their shared history. "How fortunate we are that people might change."

Elizabeth nodded, regarding him thoughtfully.

"Ah, here, I feel you are considering some pronouncement." He sighed, in mock-resignation. "Well, my dear wife, do not keep me in suspense. What would you say to me?"

"Nothing of consequence!" Lizzy laughed, swatting at him for his impertinence.

"Merely that it would be wise for both of us to recall your words going forwards. _How fortunate we are that people might change_. Does that extend to other people under your roof at present?"

Darcy smiled, wryly, but did not give an immediate answer.

"Do you wish to take a tour of the rest of the house now, or do you prefer to take some refreshments before moving on?"

Elizabeth held his gaze for a moment as if considering whether to press him further on his opinion of George Wickham's ability, or inability, to change, but mercifully let the matter rest. She tilted her head to one side, considering his proposition.

"I think I should like to see a little more of the house before we take tea. You have shown me the library, which I adore, but pray, which of the rooms is yours to spend time in as you choose? I wish to know where I might find you at any given hour of the day…"

Laughing good-naturedly, Darcy continued the enjoyable task of introducing his home to the woman who would share it with him. They canvassed the entire ground floor before, at last, finding their way back to the parlour to join their guests.


	10. Chapter 10

When Anne had declared herself tired enough to retire to their room to rest before dinner, Wickham had excused the both of them from sitting any longer in the parlour with Darcy and Elizabeth. He was not tired, himself, and having ensured his wife was not truly unwell, merely tired, and seen her contentedly sleeping, he had sought some sort of entertainment of his own. He did not care to read, and certainly was not inclined to retreat back to the parlour and seek conversation with either Mr or Mrs Darcy, and instead fell to exploring the house that had once upon a time been as familiar to him as his own.

 _It has not changed so very much!_ he remarked to himself, as he prowled the corridors in the East Wing, recalling a hundred childhood stories with each antique he passed, dredging up the personal histories of those ancient Darcy ancestors immortalised in portraits that lined the wall. He slowed to a stop before one, in particular, recognising the stern brow of Fitzwilliam Darcy in his father's features, albeit softened by the kindness that gentleman had always exhibited.

 _What a pity his son did not inherit his generosity along with his scowl,_ he thought, but immediately chastised himself for the comment. Darcy was generosity personified in allowing he and Anne to seek refuge here at Pemberley at all, let alone in advance of a more permanent relocation to the Lodge. Wickham shook his head, marvelling that the man he had spent his whole life vying to better had, in one small gesture, bested him. He could never repay this good deed, and he knew it. He glanced up at old Mr Darcy once more, recalling the interview he had had with young George in the aftermath of Wickham's father's death. The young Wickham had been reeling from the loss of his father, struggling to resolve the complexity of their relationship. He had never pleased his father, never once won direct praise from him. When he did regard George it was in comparison to Fitzwilliam Darcy, as if he, George, could never step out of his shadow. _It was hardly a fair comparison_ , he had thought then, and continued to think now. Darcy had possessed every bit of advantage that had eluded the young George: a father and mother who cared for him, a sister who idolised him, intelligence, education and the promise of a future and a position. George felt bitter jealousy burn hot in his chest and breathed deeply to still it. Old Mr Darcy had tried to help, had somehow seen that George did not want sympathy. _You_ _'re a man in your own right, now, George, and must step out of the shadow of your father. What you do in life is yours to decide, and your success will be its own reward._

Wickham sighed. What success did he have to boast of? A living sold and squandered. A trail of disastrous attempts at success littering the country. And now, a wife stolen from one of the fine families of England, and resultantly disinherited by her mother. He shook his head. He had lain claim to Anne's wealth before he had appreciated his wife's character. Now he noticed her, and loved her - for what else could explain his willingness to allow Darcy to help him? It had cost him a great deal to swallow his pride and come here at his friend's request, to accept Darcy's terms. _No gambling. No drink. You must work, and prove your commitment to change, for Anne_ _'s sake if not for your own._

Wickham did not need reminding that they were here for Anne's sake and not his own. If they were not married, he was quite sure Darcy would have cheerfully left him to rot in the Borders and escorted Anne home alone. That he was her husband was a mere inconvenience, but it would not prevent Darcy doing what was best for his cousin, which fact Wickham was forced to admire, however grudgingly.

Bidding a silent farewell to old Mr Darcy, he moved on, pausing by a portrait of Darcy's mother. She offered nothing but pleasant memories for him, memories of happier times. She had treated him with as much warmth and affection as if she had been his own mother, for Mrs Wickham had died when George was still young and his memories of her faded to just a few hazy recollections. Lady Anne Darcy had been soft-spoken and as ethereal as this portrait suggested. She was caught in repose, here, in the classical style, where she looked not unlike an angel. _If I were at all religious enough to believe in angels I could certainly credit the notion that she was one_ , Wickham acknowledged, appreciating the beauty of the picture. There was something about her that reminded him of Anne. Her likeness to Georgiana was striking, but as he regarded the portrait this time it was his wife's likeness he saw, and feared that she, too, delicate as Lady Anne had been, might also depart this earth early.

 _She will not,_ he promised himself. _She will rally: I will ensure she does._ He walked faster, now, his promise giving purpose to his steps. He would go into the gardens and find some pine boughs that might bring some vibrant greenery to their rooms. The East Wing, reserved for guests, had long remained unused, and despite the hasty airing it had received upon the knowledge that its rooms were to be occupied by the new Mr and Mrs Wickham, they still smelt faintly of dust and stale air. Anne enjoyed the scent of pine, she had written as much to George once in one of her many letters. He felt guilty, now, that he had given each note only the most cursory of glances. Enough to ensure his paramour was still undoubtedly _his_ , and to isolate one or two words he might mention in his own missives to intimate the letters had been read, cherished, memorised. He scowled. He had not kept but one of them, and that the most perfunctory of the lot, the one that made arrangements for their final meeting in London before their flight north. George Wickham did not have a sentimental bone in his body, yet now he regretted not treasuring the words his beloved had written to him before they were married. She would not write to him now - nor could she, if the weak pressure of her hand on his was anything to judge.

"She will soon be well again," he muttered aloud, as if hearing the words would give them more truth. "And if she does not write to me again, it is only because there is no need. I do not intend on leaving her long enough to ever require letters."

He pressed on towards the stairs, and down to the grounds, bracing himself for the blast of cold air when he pulled the door open. He relished it, after days of travelling cooped up in a carriage and was glad he had thought to go outside. The grounds had changed a little, or it seemed so to him, yet still, he found his way quickly and easily to the pines that lined the lawn, pulling a small knife from his pocket and looking for the choicest boughs to greet Anne when she awoke. He fell to work with a will, enjoying the feel of the rough greenery against his fingers, the cold air in his lungs. _I forgot how pleasant it is to be out of doors_ , he thought, lifting his head to admire the view. _I shall not forget so easily next time._


	11. Chapter 11

"I wonder how you can sew for so long and have such an occupation hold your attention, sister." Caroline Bingley had clearly tired of the silence that pervaded the parlour, for after unhappily attending to her book she, at last, laid it down and turned her hawk-like attention to her sister, who was busily stitching at her handiwork.

"I enjoy the opportunity to develop my skill," Mrs Hurst said sweetly. "Although I recall you never did possess the dexterity required for sewing."

Both sisters scowled at one another, before turning their attention to the third young lady present. Georgiana had been sitting at a desk in the window, nursing a letter she had received that morning from her brother. He had dispatched a servant in response to Mr Hurst's invitation to the newly arrived Mr and Mrs Darcy to join them at Lattimer Place for dinner that very evening and had included a sealed note addressed to Georgiana herself.

"I wonder what it is that so occupies your attention, Georgiana, dear." Mrs Hurst peered over towards the window. "Is that the note that arrived this morning? I wonder who can contrive to write to you here." She laughed. "Is there some secret admirer we are as yet unaware of?"

Georgiana coloured, glancing over at the sisters.

"No," she said, simply. "It is merely a short letter from my brother."

"Your brother!" Caroline trilled. "Do tell us of Mr Darcy's news. Are they well settled at Pemberley? What do he and dear Eliza plan to do with their time now that they are in Derbyshire once more?"

"You may ask him yourself," Georgiana said, folding her letter and slipping it out of sight. "They will be joining us for dinner this evening." She ducked her head in a polite nod towards Mrs Hurst. "He thanks you for the invitation, Mrs Hurst, and passes on his good wishes and gratitude for your inviting me to stay."

"Nonsense!" Mrs Hurst waved Georgiana's compliment away with the hand that still gripped her needle. "You are a delight, Georgiana dear, and no trouble at all! I only wish you might stay here always."

Something in this compliment apparently nettled Mrs Hurst's sister, because Caroline stood and walked pointedly towards the window, putting more distance between her and her sister and moving closer to Georgiana.

"I am sure you are eager to see your brother again, are not you?" Caroline asked, watching her carefully for any reaction. Georgiana strove to keep her features impassive, not because she feared to betray her feelings but rather because she did not wish Caroline Bingley to be informed of them. She had always considered Charles's sister a friend, but lately, coming to know her better, had begun to think that that lady had striven to show only her most agreeable traits to Georgiana, in the hope of endearing herself to her and by extension to Mr Darcy. Now that her brother was married, Caroline's interest in Georgiana waned, and she was less careful of her. Georgiana had witnessed too many mean-spirited exchanges between the two sisters, and even been on the receiving end of Caroline's sharp tongue on one occasion, to altogether trust her host's sister.

"We have been parted some time," Georgiana said, carefully. "It is always pleasant to be reunited with one's family when they have often been far away." She smiled. "I am sure you feel the same about your brother, Miss Bingley, and it is for that reason that you went with him to Hertfordshire, to begin with."

This caused Caroline to straighten, and smile icily in Georgiana's direction. It had been evident to her, though she doubted Caroline Bingley realised as much, that Caroline's arrival in Hertfordshire with her brother had been at least as much to do with Mr Darcy's being in their company as it was in her desire to be close to her brother.

"You are so right, Georgiana." She laughed, affecting a lightness that did not translate to her features. "The things we sisters must do for our brothers. It is too cruel, really, for I am sure they do not think of us half so often!"

Georgiana's thoughts strayed to William, and she opened her mouth to counter Miss Bingley's assertion with one of her own, yet, to her surprise, the name on her lips was Charles Bingley's, rather than Fitzwilliam Darcy's.

"Your brother certainly seems very fondly disposed towards you, Miss Bingley." She nodded deferentially towards her host. "And to you, of course, Mrs Hurst. Did not he take Netherfield Park precisely so that the two of you might be with him for the autumn?"

"Yes, and look where that has got us!" Mrs Hurst laughed, setting aside her embroidery that she might more fully involve herself in the discussion between her two friends. "Mind you, I cannot lament leaving Hertfordshire behind." She exchanged a glance with Caroline. "It was not so charming a place as I had been led to believe. And the people!"

A muffled hiss from Caroline was prompt enough to silence Mrs Hurst before she said any more, but Georgina's curiosity was piqued.

"I rather thought that you had made friends there, Mrs Hurst. Am I mistaken? Mr Bingley certainly seemed enchanted with the place. He has been telling me stories of Meryton, of the regiment stationed there, and of the families you associated with." She smiled. "One in particular, of course, for it appears both my brother and my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, lost their hearts to Hertfordshire." Speaking the words aloud, she laughed. "You must forgive my poor attempt at humour. Yes, Mr Bingley had nought but good things to say of the Bennet family, and has striven to endear them all to me." Her voice hitched a little on the _all_ , but it was apparent that neither of her companions noticed. Mr Bingley had told her a little of Elizabeth's character, but Georgiana refused to be drawn too much on her new sister. She had, when William first wrote of his engagement and later marriage, been delighted, and waited with eager expectation to receive her new sister. She had so often lamented her lack of feminine company and female friendship that she was eager to expand her circle to include one so witty and intelligent. _For she must be intelligent if she has induced my brother to wed._ How suddenly and how completely her thoughts had changed!

"You must be somewhat acquainted with Miss Elizabeth - with Mrs Darcy as she now is, Miss Bingley. Pray, tell me a little more about her, for I have heard a great deal from both my brother by way of letters and your brother's stories. Yet I am inclined to think that Mr Bingley so good-hearted he would never dream of saying a negative word about any young lady. You are far more shrewd a judge of character. Tell me, then, what is she like?"

This was as fine an invitation as Caroline Bingley had been offered and she waited no time in sharing her opinion with Georgiana of her _dear friend, Eliza Bennet - sorry! Eliza_ Darcy _._ True to Georgina's expectation, Caroline was not complimentary, although she drew short of outright criticism it was apparent from all that she did not say, as much as what she did, where her true opinion lay. Georgiana frowned. This Elizabeth Bennet seemed like the very last person in all the world her brother might one day be induced to care for. How then had she succeeded in winning his heart? Witty, Charles had said, and intelligent. _Scheming_ , Caroline implied. _Sly._ Had her brother found himself a victim of the very sort of conniving person he had sought to extract his sister from?


	12. Chapter 12

_Three doors down, on the left_ _…_ Elizabeth reached for the handle, throwing open the door triumphantly…only to realise the room she was standing outside was not at all the room she intended. Parlour, not library. Both rooms were deserted, as the occupants of the house were busy and Elizabeth had decided to embark upon a leisurely exploration of the library…if only she could find it! She considered retracing her steps to Darcy's study, where he had barricaded himself with a mountain of notes and the current ledgers for the estate which needed looking over in advance of a meeting with his steward. He would welcome the distraction, Elizabeth was sure, but she had no great desire to admit to her husband, again, that she could not navigate their house. He would find her circumstance amusing and would struggle to hide his smile as he rose from his seat to help her.

 _No._ Elizabeth lifted her chin. _I shall find the room myself, and never admit to getting so thoroughly lost!_ She began walking again, dismissing the parlour and striving to find her bearings. After two further fruitless attempts, she gave up, and chose a door at random, surprised to find that in this instance, she was correct.

"Finally!" she cried, dancing across the threshold and happily crossing to the bookshelves. A movement from within startled her, though, and she drew back, surprised to find the room was not empty, as she supposed.

"Mrs Darcy!" George Wickham had been seated at a small table, poring over several volumes. He struggled quickly to his feet, closing books as he moved, and arranging them clumsily into a pile.

"Oh, Mr Wickham!" Lizzy took a step back towards the door. "Forgive me, I did not realise anyone else was here."

"No more did I!" Wickham laughed, uncomfortably. "Indeed, I was not aware anyone else knew of this room, nor had need of it."

"Mr Darcy introduced me to it a day or two past," Elizabeth said. "Only I have struggled until now to find it again." She pulled a face. "We are not all so well-acquainted with navigating around such a large house as this."

"No."

Wickham's one-word answer gave Elizabeth pause, and she was surprised to see his features lifted in a wry, self-deprecating smile.

"Do, please, go on with your work," Elizabeth said, reaching quickly for a book - any book - and planning her retreat. "I came only for something to read. Having accomplished that, I might set to just as easily in the parlour, or…" Her forehead creased in anxiety. "Or any other room than this!"

"You certainly have plenty to choose from," Wickham said. "That is, of course, assuming you manage to successfully find your way back to the parlour." He smiled. "Is not my wife there? She talked about playing the piano this morning, and so I assumed her to be fully occupied."

Elizabeth shook her head. The house was silent, for if she had heard music she might have lingered closer to listen more, and maybe asked if Anne wished for company, rather than wandering the halls alone and getting herself thoroughly lost.

"Perhaps we will go and look for her, then," Wickham said, casting a regretful glance over his shoulder at the books. "I ought not to have assumed free rein to colonise the library as I saw fit. I am sure many things have changed in the years I have been away from Pemberley, not least who is granted uninterrupted access to this hallowed space." This time his smile was a little bitter, and Elizabeth lifted her chin, reminding herself that no matter how many memories Wickham possessed of this house, she was now its mistress and need not feel cowed.

"I give you leave to stay and study if you wish. I am sure Darcy would not mind that."

Wickham laughed.

"I am quite sure he would prefer it. Come, Mrs Darcy, I see you are loathed to take a step further into the room, and instead linger in the doorway lest we are discovered here together. Let us avoid the threat of gossip and step out into the corridor, where we might talk without fear of being spied upon."

Clutching her book close to her chest, Lizzy stepped out into the hallway, waiting for Wickham to join her, and they began a very slow walk in the direction of the parlour. They had not gone but a few paces when Wickham paused, tilting his ear up.

"You are right, there is no sound of a piano to be heard. Perhaps Anne changed her mind."

"Perhaps she struggled to find the piano, to begin with," Elizabeth said, gloomily. She had always prided herself on her excellent sense of direction, but perhaps that only applied when she was out of doors, and not to a large house that she must learn to navigate alone.

"Anne could find a piano anywhere." Wickham arched an eyebrow. "Much like you and libraries, I wager. Yet _unlike_ you, she has also spent a little time here already in her life. Pemberley can be a rabbit-hole to those who do not know its idiosyncrasies."

"You _do_ know them, I assume?"

"I know some of them. Are you aware, for instance, of the priest hole on the east stairwell?"

Elizabeth's surprise indicated she was not.

"I will leave you to discover it, next time you are in search of some occupation. It is tiny, certainly not large enough to conceal any gentleman of the cloth I have ever come across, but perhaps the Papists were of slighter stature." Wickham laughed. "It provided an excellent hiding place for two young boys always getting in and out of trouble, I will say that for it."

"You and Mr Darcy?"

"Indeed."

They walked on in silence for a moment, and Wickham appeared to be lost in thought before he spoke again.

"You have heard only of our falling out, Mrs Darcy, and so I imagine it quite strange for you to think me and William were ever friends." He smiled, bitterly. "I think it strange myself, these days. I confess to holding so much of a grudge against him, for so long, that to recall our carefree childhood games is almost like remembering a dream."

He said no more, but something that might have been pain played out across his features.

"Mr Wickham, you speak of trouble-making, and carefree childhood games," Elizabeth prompted when she could no longer bear the awkward silence. "Surely it must have been one rather than the other."

"Spoken like a true lady!" Wickham laughed again. "Yet I imagine you would have been sympathetic to boys' scrapes, much as Lady Anne was, and given way to our apologies, rather than holding fast to punishment."

"It rather depends on the scrape, I imagine," Elizabeth remarked, remembering, with a grimace, the punishments she had endured from her mother after tearing yet another dress by climbing a tree or being too absorbed in a novel to notice a nail at precisely the wrong point in a wall. Her father had been more generous, and his "punishments" more often than not consisted of being kept in his study to "think over her behaviour", otherwise known as to take her place as his opponent over the chess board.

"Aye, and the intention behind it." Wickham's laughter died away. "In which case, Darcy would be spared every beating and they would be revisited twice upon my own head. You need not wonder, Mrs Darcy, which of the two of us was ever the instigator of our crimes." His smile faded. "You need also not wonder which of us suffered more greatly at the hands of our fathers in terms of punishment."

Recalling her own close relationship with her father, Elizabeth felt a wave of sympathy for Wickham, whose eyes flashed with anger at some memory he would not be drawn to share.

"Well, Mrs Darcy. Here is the parlour." Wickham bowed. "I trust you will find a comfortably sunny spot in which to enjoy your book. I must away and find my wife, for goodness knows where she has hidden herself." He glanced at her anxiously. "Do you wish for company, or would you much prefer to be left to your reading? I do not ask for myself, but for Anne."

"Of course she may join me!" Elizabeth said, with an energetic nod. "There is the piano here, she might play if she wishes, or any other quiet occupation that would suit her." She lowered her voice. "If she wishes."

"I am sure she will. Do not fear our imminent arrival, though. You will manage at least some progress in your reading before we return to disturb you." Wickham winked. "I have yet to find her, after all, and we both know how difficult it is to navigate such a house as this. I may be gone quite some time, Mrs Darcy…"


	13. Chapter 13

_I am glad you are both settled at Pemberley, though I question your sanity in inviting that man there with you_ _…_

Darcy stifled a grim smile, seeing from Colonel Fitzwilliam's penmanship he had hesitated over the word _man_ in reference to Wickham. He had clearly decided on simplicity or been encouraged to. Mary's influence was evidenced throughout the letter, which communicated with his cousin's usual brevity and good-humour, but his language was tempered, and he wrote with rather more care than he had in previous missives. Darcy glanced over the letter once more, before folding it and setting it aside. Lizzy might read it herself, for there was nothing that would shock her unduly in Colonel Fitzwilliam's words and he knew that she was concerned, as he had been, at Richard's failing health. That he had rallied enough to write, and write in detail, was reassuring. His letter outlined all communications that had passed between the Fitzwilliams and Lady Catherine, none of which surprised Darcy, but did disappoint him. What a pity that they might not have prevented this matter causing such a separation between his aunt and her daughter.

He reached for his own writing implements, wondering if he ought to address himself to Lady Catherine directly. Instead, he settled on replying to Richard, for his cousin had been full of questions. He answered them as succinctly as he knew how and explained his plan for leasing the Lodge to the new Mr and Mrs Wickham at a nominal rent. He would encourage Wickham to find some sort of employment, though he did not relish that task one whit. He laid the letter aside, reaching for Richard's once more. _Send to me here,_ he had written. _If you are speedy enough I will receive it before I leave. Yes, you read correctly, cousin. Mary and I are planning our future and seek to secure a small home in Hertfordshire. London is too brash and busy for both my shy wife and my own weary ways: I am longing for the countryside again. We had considered going north when Philip does, but although we have reached a sort of peace that I formerly did not believe possible, we are each of us eager for our own space. Mary misses her family, although she does not say so, and if I am honest, Hertfordshire now holds a special place in my affections, for it is that county that brought me my bride._ Darcy smiled. _I dare say you will laugh at my sentimentality, cousin, and I have no words of defence. It is sentimental and silly, I dare say, but a man must make his home somewhere, and Hertfordshire is as good a_ _"somewhere" as anywhere else in this great green isle. I will write to you the particulars of our address once we know them ourselves, so do not be offended if my writing is sporadic at present. I imagine you will be plenty occupied with seeing to Anne and Wickham. There, do you see I write his name and somehow the page does not burn up at the sight of it? Wonders never cease._

Darcy's smile broadened. His cousin's customary sense of humour would have been a support to him, and he half regretted not offering lodgings to Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mary here at Pemberley. They would not have taken it: Richard was right in wanting his own home, the chance to begin married life properly without always staying at the convenience of his family and friends.

 _We will, I am sure, find our way to Kent once we are settled. You know I am not eager to indulge our aunt_ _'s fits of pique, but I do fear for her, Darcy, especially if she is determined to take Anne's actions as a personal slight. There may be nothing we can do to remedy the situation, but I feel we must at least try. Perhaps if I can tell of how the new Mr and Mrs Wickham are making some progress in Derbyshire she will soften enough to speak of them, and then we may only hope that one day she will be reconciled to her daughter. Whether she will welcome them to Kent is another matter entirely. You will be pleased to hear you no longer hold the title for most disappointing family member in Lady Catherine's assessment, although I do not suppose the reprieve will offer you much in the way of comfort._

Darcy nodded, glad that Richard was keen to continue to involve himself in family matters. He was the best placed to manage Aunt Catherine, and Darcy hoped that with Mary by his side the older lady's bitter temper might be gradually worn down. The least they could do in Derbyshire was to ensure some modicum of success for the newlyweds, that Wickham might prove himself hardworking and diligent enough to improve the low status he brought to the marriage.

There was a knock at the door, and Darcy looked up to see a servant hovering in the corridor.

"Yes?"

"Sir, Mrs Darcy asks whether you are still busy with your work or if you would like to take a few moments' respite with her in the parlour?"

Darcy was poised to refuse, but instead, he nodded, folding Richard's letter and lifting it as he stood.

"I will come now."

Most of his work was done, and what was not could be left. He was eager to see his wife, for they had parted company at breakfast and the house had been silent since then. _I hope she is not lonely_ , he thought, feeling a pang of regret at thus uprooting her and coming to Pemberley. _But no, there is Anne if she requires companionship._ He glanced towards the window as he strode along the corridor, cursing the poor weather. Lizzy's love of walking would remain unsatisfied for another day. He hoped, with the library and the other occupations afforded within the house she would not lament that fact too much.

"William!"

Anne's voice halted Darcy's progress, and when he entered the parlour he realised _a few moments_ _' respite_ would not just be with his wife, but both of his guests as well. His smile faded, but only a fraction.

"William!" His wife was next to greet him. "Come here and sit awhile. I could not bear to think of you working in your study while we were enjoying Anne's music. Do play us another piece, dear," Elizabeth said, nodding encouragement to Anne, whose fingers had flown from the piano keys the instant she recognised Darcy's approach.

"Elizabeth tells me you are to dine at Lattimer Place this evening," Wickham said, as Darcy took a seat next to his wife.

"Yes," he said, curtly. "I trust you and Anne might amuse yourselves without difficulty in our absence?"

"A quiet evening will be perfect," Wickham said, some expression crossing his face that Darcy could not quite fathom. "But I hope you will pass on our best wishes to Mr and Miss Bingley and the others." He paused. "Hurst, isn't it? Mr and Mrs Hurst."

Darcy nodded.

"And to Georgiana."

Her name was but a whisper on Wickham's lips, and Darcy snapped his head up, to see what lay behind Wickham's insistence on mentioning her. To his surprise, he saw real anxiety - or a very good approximation thereof - resting on George Wickham's features. "I hope that she is well and that this-this news does not upset her unduly. I hope…" he trailed off, shrugging off the rest of his unspoken sentiment. "I hope that she is well."


	14. Chapter 14

Elizabeth had never been incredibly interested in the modes of style and fashion, but she was despairing the lack of choice in her wardrobe at present. A few of her clothes remained at Longbourn, the rest in London, and whilst she was certain her husband would not begrudge her the purchase of a new dress, she had yet to act on the impulse. And so it was with a little regret she selected her outfit for the evening she and Darcy would be spending at Lattimer Place. _At least I shall be comfortable,_ she thought, brushing down the familiar fabric, and turning her attention to the delicate ear-bobs that had been a recent gift from her husband upon their arrival in Derbyshire.

Unwilling to spend any longer on her appearance, which nought but the elusive change of dress could really change, she hurried down to the parlour that she might await Darcy and their departure there and was surprised to see him there ahead of her, standing with one hand at the mantelpiece. She hesitated a moment in the doorway until some sound betrayed her, and he glanced up, smiling at her.

"Good evening! You are ready early?"

"We are both ready early," Elizabeth said, with a self-deprecating sigh. "Although I am weary of wearing this same dress again. You must grow tired of seeing me in it always."

Darcy blinked, as if recognising the dress for the first time.

"It suits you so well," he said, dismissing her concerns. "And it will be new in Georgiana's eyes at least." He did not mention Caroline Bingley, and for that Lizzy was pleased, for she could already well imagine the reflections her friend might make on Lizzy's choice of dress. "But your wish for another reminds me we must hasten and send for your belongings from London and Longbourn." He nodded. "I shall do it tomorrow. And perhaps we might take a trip into town, for we can run to a new wardrobe, I am sure."

His eyes twinkled with amusement, but Lizzy's anxieties no more receded for the night ahead of them. She rubbed her hands together, palms clammy with nerves, and paced the length of the room.

"We ought not to leave yet, I suppose. It is too early, still."

Darcy said nothing, but she felt his eyes on her, watching her anxious progress to the window, and then back towards him.

"Forgive me, my dear, for I have not heretofore been known as the most perceptive of men, yet it seems to me that you might be a little nervous."

Elizabeth laughed and nodded.

"You are right! I remember the last time we dressed for a meal out together, in Scotland, when you were the one who was ill-at-ease. It seems this evening it is my turn."

"Why ever would you be?" Darcy frowned. "We are merely attending a meal with friends." He paused. "Well, acquaintances at least, for I do not know that I would consider Mr and Mrs Hurst to be particular friends. I suppose Mr and Miss Bingley have won their places in both our affections after their presence in Scotland…"

"There, you see, you have left out the most important person!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"Tonight I am to meet the young lady who is to play a great part in determining our future happiness. Your sister, Georgiana." Elizabeth drew a breath. "Before tonight she was nothing but a name to me, as I have been to her, and tonight we shall meet face to face for the first time. What if -" her voice dropped so that when she spoke she sounded a good deal younger than her years. "What if she is not fond of me?"

This time Darcy laughed, a reaction so rare, still, that it caught Elizabeth by surprise and she frowned as she looked up at him.

"What you are suggesting is a pure impossibility!" he explained. "Georgiana is more inclined to like you _too much_ than not enough."

"Your confidence in me is astounding," Elizabeth said, with a sigh. "But might I also remind you that you are a little biased?"

There was a knock at the door, a servant indicating that their carriage was ready to depart, should they wish to be on their way. Taking a fortifying breath, Elizabeth smiled and followed her husband towards the door. Already, it seemed to her like leaving a sanctuary, for Pemberley had become home to her so quickly that she was reluctant to leave it behind. Her anxiety over meeting Georgiana for the first time lessened a little as she reflected on Darcy's words. It was further tempered by her eagerness to see Mr Bingley once more, and she was at least satisfied to know in advance what reception she was likely to receive from both of his sisters. Mr and Mrs Hurst she had not seen since Hertfordshire, and she had little doubt her hosts would enquire interestedly in the changes that her status had undergone. She rolled her eyes skywards, already imagining Mrs Hurst's nosy questions, and the carriage lurched into motion.

"I feel I must steal Georgiana away to myself for a few moments at least, this evening, and tell her of Wickham's presence at Pemberley," Darcy said after they had travelled for a moment or two in silence. "It is not a chore I look forward to, and I wager she may already be aware of it, for Bingley suggested that the secret was out, but as I have had no communication with Georgiana myself I have no way of knowing how she receives the news."

"It will be kind to tell her in private," Elizabeth acknowledged. "And perhaps before we leave, so that if she is at all unsettled by the news, she might excuse herself early without prompting any questions." She paused. "She will surely be eager to plan for her return home. If Mr and Mrs Wickham are to stay at the Lodge, Georgiana can hardly be kept from returning to her own home for months on end."

"Wisdom, as ever!" Darcy said, with a slight smile, and reaching for his wife's hand.

"You are already concerned for Georgiana's wellbeing, and yet you fear you will not get on."

Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head, and wishing she could shed her anxieties as easily.

"It will be good to meet her at last. And to be reunited with our friends."

"Indeed! I know you have bitterly missed seeing Caroline Bingley every day since our parting in Scotland," Darcy said, with a wicked grin.

Elizabeth said nothing, but laughed, and they ended their journey with high spirits, her fears deliberately set aside as she determined to enjoy the evening before them.


	15. Chapter 15

Georgiana had hurried through her preparations for the evening in double time. She knew, from experience and from conversations she had politely been victim to all afternoon, that both other ladies of the house would be dedicating rather more time and energy to their appearance that day, and so she skipped down the stairs, confident that her speed would be rewarded with at least some time to herself before her brother and Elizabeth arrived. She frowned. It still felt strange to her, referring to her new sister by name when they had not yet been introduced. It felt stranger still to think that she had a new sister at all, and one who was spoken so well of by at least some members of the Bingley family. Caroline tempered her opinion, but Georgiana knew her well enough to deduce that the truth must lie some way between the two.

Reaching the sitting room, Georgiana threw the door open rather more carelessly than she might have done, had she not been so confident of being alone. It was all the more surprising to her, then, to realise she was not alone: the tall, slim figure of Charles Bingley stood in the window, arms folded behind him, peering out into the blackness.

"Oh!" Georgiana cried, wishing she had not burst in with such familiarity.

"Miss Darcy!" Charles turned, then, the noise of her entrance, or of her voice startling him from whatever reverie caused his usually sanguine features to crowd in on one another, his smooth brow to wrinkle. It was a poor imitation of the type of frown her own brother often wore, but so infrequently seen on cheery Mr Bingley that the impression was altogether more intimidating.

"Is something the matter?" Georgiana asked, concern overriding any other feeling at that moment. "You seem…" she could not immediately conjure a word to accurately describe how Mr Bingley looked to her at present, and eventually settled on the least complex of them all. "Sad."

"Sad?" Bingley hooted. "Nonsense! We are about to spend a delightful evening with your brother and Mrs Darcy! Fine food and fine company: how could I be anything less than delighted by such a prospect?"

He turned, then, and gestured that Georgiana join him in one of two seats, angled gently towards the fire. She obeyed, but a surreptitious glance towards his features suggested that his broad smile, affected to disprove her accusation, still did not quite meet his eyes.

"You think very highly of my new sister," Georgiana began, casting around for a safe topic of conversation. She dearly wished to inquire further of Mr Bingley what troubled him, to ask if she, Georgiana, might be able to offer some help. He had been so good to her and was a true friend during her stay at Lattimer Place. In fact, the notion that she should so much prefer his company to either of his sisters was surprising to acknowledge. Warmth rose in her cheeks, and she looked away, fearing he might notice her composure and read some truth in it that she had not yet acknowledged even to herself.

"Indeed I do. Darcy could not have found a better wife." His voice faded at the end of his words as if he did not entirely believe them. "Although I admit the notion of their marrying was quite as surprising to me as it was to any other, as I had it on good authority - from two separate sources - that neither cared for the other upon their first meeting.

"Oh?"

This was news indeed to Georgiana, and she straightened, eager to hear more details of what had truly precipitated her brother's hasty marriage.

"Oh, you know what Darcy is like. He never speaks of his true feelings, and I wager the enthusiasm with which he professed dislike for the lady was as much to convince himself as it was to convince me of his apparent disinterest. And to hear Elizabeth no more cared for him is hardly surprising -"

"Elizabeth does not like him?"

"Oh, I dare say she is dreadfully fond of him _now_ ," Bingley said, with a smothered laugh. "Or else why would she agree to marry him? But no, he did not seek to endear himself to her at first. In fact, I fancy she overheard his unkind words to me, although that is conjecture, for Jane would not be drawn on -" he hesitated. "That is…"

"Jane. You refer to Elizabeth's sister?" She smiled, cautiously. "I am still trying to align the family tree in my head. Recall, Mr Bingley, these are all but names to me at present."

"Jane is Elizabeth's elder sister," Charles said, his voice softening with the mention of this young lady in particular, and Georgiana felt her own heart slow with every word he uttered. "She is a fine lady, Miss Georgiana, beautiful, elegant, kind, accomplished…" He trailed off, then, turning his attention to the fire.

"I wonder, then, that my brother did not choose to marry _her_ ," Georgiana said, unable to keep the sour note from her voice. Mr Bingley was lost to his memories, though, and seemed to forget Georgiana was even present, let alone that she had spoken. After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat and began again.

"I might infer your own affections rested on this elder Miss Bennet, Mr Bingley?" Georgiana whispered. She watched him intently while affecting a mode of friendly disinterest. Suddenly, for reasons she could not quite fathom, his response mattered very much to her, and it was the tender regret in his voice that sent her heart sinking to her boots.

"You infer correctly, Miss Georgiana. I even dared to hope she might feel similarly, and yet…"

A sound from outside the parlour startled him from his apparent reverie, and he straightened as if realising for the first time that he and Georgiana were sitting quite alone in the deserted room, and might thus invite speculation upon the nature of their conversation.

"Mr Hurst? Is that your footsteps I hear? Do join us, for I fear we will have some time to wait yet until the other ladies are ready to grace us with their presence."

The door opened, and Mr Hurst strode in, acknowledging the pair occupying his parlour with a bored nod.

"Let us begin with an aperitif," he said, striding straight for the drinks tray, and pouring himself a generous measure of amber liquid, with a rather less generous measure which he handed to his brother-in-law.

"Dear me! Miss Georgiana, I did not notice you there. I hope Bingley is not disturbing your peace with his incessant chattering." He smiled as if to suggest his words were not an insult, albeit a good-natured one, and Georgiana saw irritation flash in Bingley's usually contented eyes. She wondered, then, whether he was as happy to linger at Lattimer Place as he maintained.

"Tell me some more about Netherfield Park, Mr Bingley," she said, quickly. "You never did tell me much about your time in Hertfordshire, beyond those ladies whose acquaintance has followed you throughout the country. Tell me, for instance, how did it compare with Lattimer Place?"

She turned an interested glance towards both gentlemen, although Mr Hurst bowed in acquiescence to Mr Bingley, inviting him to speak first. Charles' words were halting, piling enthusiastic praise on Lattimer Place by comparison, but Georgiana inferred, from all that he did not say, that he vastly preferred Netherfield Park, and would in some ways rather be back there.

Another sound broke their quiet conversation before long, indicating the arrival of their guests, and Georgiana stood as Mr and Mrs Darcy were ushered into the sitting room.

"Georgiana, at last!" Darcy said, crossing the room and reaching towards her as if to embrace her. When she did not move to greet him straight away, though, he faltered, and at length shook hands, rather formally. Georgiana recognised his confusion, even if it would have been indistinguishable from his usual frown to any other person present, and she felt a strange flicker of enjoyment. She might have no power to determine where she went, or how she lived, but she could still make her feelings known.

"Good evening, William. And this must be my new sister." She turned a cold, calculated smile, modelled on one that she had seen exhibited on numerous occasions by none other than Caroline Bingley, upon the lady that accompanied him. "Good evening, Mrs Darcy."

"Oh, please," the new arrival said, with a warm smile that Georgiana struggled not to return, it was so guileless and genuine that she momentarily regretted her determination not to like her new sister. That they must be meeting here, in a borrowed parlour and in the presence of relative strangers hardened her resolve, however, and she barely heard the rest of Mrs Darcy's words. "We are to be sisters! You must call me Lizzy."


	16. Chapter 16

Even if Elizabeth had not seen countless portraits of Georgiana or Lady Anne Darcy that adorned both their London home and Pemberley's walls, Lizzy would not have struggled to see the likeness between Mr Darcy and his sister. Oh, he might expound upon their differences: she was fair, while he was dark. She gracious and musical, quick to smile and laugh: he far more sombre, and prone to scowl, even when his thoughts were neutral and relatively harmless. This evening, though, their expressions were more alike than she had been led to expect. Darcy's frown softened upon reconnecting with Charles, and he even managed a comfortable conversation with Mr Hurst, who took rather more interest in showing off the particulars of his estate to the visitor from Pemberley than of paying any mind to the discussion of the two young ladies, whose group grew to four in time, as first Mrs Hurst and at last Miss Bingley came to join them.

 _I never imagined I would be grateful for the arrival of Caroline Bingley!_ Elizabeth marvelled, as it was upon Caroline's arrival that Georgiana, at last, seemed to come into her own and talk quite freely as if she was at last at ease and free to be herself. This had been disheartening to Elizabeth, at first, who had hoped she and Georgiana would find some sort of instant rapport and thus set her mind at rest on the matter of her approval. Yet she could not help but feel some relief that, with Caroline and Mrs Hurst present, some of the burden of conversation might be lifted from her. That she, Lizzy, struggled to think what to say struck her as amusing and a smile tugged at her lips.

"Did I miss some joke, Eliza, dear?"

Caroline was like a hawk, and she was on Elizabeth just as quickly as if she were a small field mouse.

"Not at all," Lizzy choked out, forcing her face into a mask of calm. "Please, do continue."

With a sniff, Caroline returned with all attention to her topic of choice: a discussion of her visit to the small nearby town of Newton that afternoon, and the old friend whom she had had the good fortune to come across quite by chance.

"Of course, she looks rather older now, and so thin!" Caroline tutted, sympathetically. "It is such a tragedy when a woman marries and all consideration for one's appearance is forgotten." She stared, pointedly, towards Elizabeth's dress and then turned back to Mrs Hurst. "No offence intended towards either of the two married ladies here, of course!" She laughed hollowly. "Poor Georgiana and I can only imagine." There was a moment's pause, and Elizabeth realised, too late, that she was angling for some sympathetic comment in support of her hopes for the future. She hesitated too long and won a wrathful glance from her friend for her silence.

"I am new to Derbyshire, Miss Bingley. Might you tell me a little of the type of society one finds here? Is it, for instance, similar to Hertfordshire? Might there be an assembly at Newton before too long, as there were often at Meryton?"

"Yes," Mrs Hurst said, before Caroline could find her tongue. "We have ever so many assemblies, and of course there are private parties to be had, too, for we have some very fine neighbours hereabouts. Why, Mrs Darcy, you might even seek to host a gathering at Pemberley, now that you are there. I am sure you wish to build friendships and better know your neighbours. What better way than to host a small soiree?"

Elizabeth smiled, stiffly, wondering if her own definition of "small soiree" and Mrs Hurst's were anything at all alike. Still, the notion of a gathering opened up another possibility in her mind, and she voiced it almost without thinking.

"I wonder if I might invite my sister, and use her coming as an excuse for just such an evening," she mused. "Do not you think, Caroline, that Jane would love to see Derbyshire for herself? I am sure Mr Bingley would be eager to see her again."

There was a sharp intake of breath to her right, and she turned, inviting Georgiana to share what was on her mind. Instead, her face appeared blank of emotion, and Lizzy began to think she had imagined the reaction.

"I rather think you might wish to receive Mr Darcy's sister home again before inviting your own," Mrs Hurst said, laughing as if she had made a humorous observation.

"Of course." Elizabeth reddened and turned apologetically back to Georgiana. "I do hope you do not feel forced out of your own home, Miss Darcy. It was not my intention at all, but -"

"It's quite alright." Georgiana lifted her chin. "Mr Bingley explained the situation to me. I do not want to prevent your guests from finding their feet, and in any case, it has been very pleasant to spend some time with my dear friends here at Lattimer Place." She turned a dazzling smile upon Caroline. "Don't you agree, Miss Bingley?"

"Oh, indeed!" Caroline breathed. "Why, we have had such charming conversations, and the music! Oh, Georgiana, you must play for us this evening after we eat, must not she, sister?"

Mrs Hurst agreed that this was a wonderful suggestion, and Lizzy hurried to agree with them and somehow endear herself to Georgiana who seemed poised to remain at some distance from her that Lizzy was eager to overcome.

"I am most eager to hear you play, Georgiana, for I have heard you are incredibly talented. Another of my sisters, Mary - she is lately married to your cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam - is musical, and I dare say you would have a great deal in common."

"Yes, if Georgiana also possessed a sanctimonious piety and a shyness that made her almost impossible to get to know," Caroline hissed under her breath.

Her words still reached Elizabeth's ears, however, and she turned a blazing glare upon her friend.

"I did not realise you so poised to dislike my sister, Miss Bingley. Pray, have you been as long acquainted with Mary's virtues as you apparently are with her flaws?"

"Ladies!" Mr Hurst's merry voice cut through any conversation, putting a stop to any response Caroline might have given, although Lizzy was pleased to see her friend slack-jawed in surprise and suitably chastened by Elizabeth's question. "Shall we go in to dinner? Mrs Hurst, you must make the arrangements, for I am certain to make a muddle of things."

Mrs Hurst was in her element as hostess of a party, and set to organising people into the order she desired so that Elizabeth quickly found herself on Mr Darcy's arm again before her anger had fully subsided.

"I was pleased to see you getting better acquainted with Georgiana," Darcy murmured as they found their seats at the large table, strewn with wax flowers and dripping with silverware as if the Hursts had expected visiting dignitaries and not a relatively informal reunion with old friends. "Tell me, how does she seem?"

"I hardly know," Elizabeth muttered. "She is not at all the young lady described to me before this evening." She sighed. "But perhaps the fault is mine." She managed a tiny smile. "I feel all at odds this night. Life at Longbourn, in London, even, seems a long time ago and I fear I am a very long way from home."


	17. Chapter 17

George Wickham pored over his ledger, illuminated by a single candle, and made a quick calculation. He frowned, surveying the figure once more, then crossed it out and redrew it, calculating the correct figure with a grim flourish. It was a paltry sum, far less than he had hoped, but it was the truth. _I have spent far too long fleeing from the truth: it is time I acknowledged it head on and best learned how to move forward._

He leaned back in his seat, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand and glanced over from his desk to Anne's seat next to a small side-table. When last he had looked at his wife, she had been hunched over the small piece of furniture, furiously writing away at a letter she had determined to finish that evening. Now, both letter and pen lay discarded, and Anne matched his repose, leaning back in her seat, and watching the dying embers of the fire, a wistful, worried expression playing about her wan features.

"Are you cold?" he asked, hauling himself to his feet, and setting to coax the fire into life.

The movement seemed to recall his wife back to herself, and she started as if realising all of a sudden that she was not alone in their rooms.

"Oh, George!" she said, smiling happily. "Forgive me, I was miles away."

Wickham rocked back on his heels, regarding her with a laconic smile.

"How many miles, precisely?" He held up a hand. "No, wait, I am sure I might guess it. Were you, perchance, in Kent once more? Taking tea with your mother in the elegant sitting rooms of Rosings, rather than in borrowed rooms belonging to your cousin?"

Anne smiled, wryly, but did not refute his assertion.

Wickham gave the fire one more jab with the poker, rather more energetically than was necessary, and Anne winced as a flurry of sparks danced upwards in the darkness.

"You ought not to dwell upon it, dear," he said, crossing over to Anne's seat and dropping a kiss on her upturned forehead. "I guarantee you she does not think of you so often." _Or so fondly_.

"I know." Anne sighed, in a tone of voice that suggested she did not know at all and certainly doubted his assessment. "It is just the silence that I cannot stand." She turned back to her letter. "Mama knows it. She has punished me with silence throughout my life, whenever I - whenever I disappointed her."

"Whenever you chose to follow your own independent will rather than kowtow entirely to her wishes, you mean," Wickham grumbled.

Pain darted across Anne's face and he instantly regretted his words.

"You ought not to torture yourself in thoughts of circumstances you cannot change," he said, glancing ruefully back towards his desk and the ledger upon it. Was he doing the same? His finances were ruinous and had been so for much of his adult life. _Yet I am still a young man_ , he counselled himself. With the advantage living at Pemberley afforded them, he might be able to at last make progress. He sighed. It would be hard work, and dull! How he longed for a pint of beer and a good hand at cards. How swiftly he would change his fortunes with one or two lucky games! The thought was so enticing his own hand began to shake, barely noticeable to any but himself. _Anne is quite content here. Surely she would not miss me this evening. An hour, two at most._ He raked through his memory to think of the route he might take to the nearest pub he might go unrecognised, for he still recalled Darcy's conditions, and felt certain his benefactor would not take kindly to the news that his tenant was out for an evening of drink and gambling, no matter how healthy the spoils Wickham brought home.

"Would you like me to play for you?"

Anne's gentle request was so softly spoken that it took Wickham a few moments to realise she had said anything at all.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, wrenching his imagination back from the smoke-filled, noisy insides of The Stag and Pheasant, and back to the quiet wing of Pemberley that had been designated their own haven.

"You have been struggling with your work all day, and I wondered if some music might not help your progress?"

This offer was accompanied by a sweet smile that Wickham had difficulty refusing.

"That would require leaving our nice warm study."

"Then let us leave it!" Anne said, standing and reaching for his hand. "Come, George, we have both of us lost too many hours to our pens. I am eager for some respite, and imagine you are too." She rubbed at an ink stain on his finger, and glanced up, anxiously into his face. "I am sorry that Mama has made life that bit more difficult for us. I know you were counting on my dowry, and instead, you have received a very stupid wife and no money whatsoever!"

"I did not marry you for your riches, dearest!" Wickham said, automatically. It was what Anne wished to hear, and so he offered the words easily, but he was surprised to realise that he did, in fact, mean them. They may not have been true when marriage first occurred to him, for to separate the notion of Anne de Bourgh from the fact of Anne de Bourgh's dowry was an impossibility, tracing back the earliest instances of their acquaintance. But, he realised with a start, even with the difficulties they were now likely to face, he would not trade the one he had for the one that had been snatched away by Lady Catherine.

"No, indeed!" Anne said, with a smile. "You married me for my music, so come, let us have some!"

Her determination gave her energy, and they half-ran down towards the music-room, laughing and joking together as if they were any other newly-wedded couple, unconscious of hardship or alienation from their wider families.

"Here, now!" Anne said, guiding him to a comfortable chaise and bidding him sit. "You must sit here. Lean back, if you wish, and recline, like a Lord."

" _Like a Lord_ ," Wickham mimicked, with a laugh.

"And I shall play for you, your ever-obedient servant. What would you like to hear first?"

Wickham's mind blanked, and he recalled the names of several pieces he knew to be fashionable or popular amongst young ladies who thought "playing a little" piano meant mastering one piece, to be wheeled out at every opportunity until familiarity rendered it tuneless. At length, he named an old air, the melody of which tugged at a memory he could not quite place.

Anne frowned, but at length began to pick the basic tune out on the piano, falteringly at first, but with growing confidence.

"That is the one!" Wickham murmured, his eyes closing as he listened. "It is so many years since I heard it…"

It had been years. Years, and miles, and events that had turned wide-eyed young George into the regretful Wickham, prone on the sofa and listening to his childhood replayed to him. "My mother played this to me when I was small," he murmured and was surprised to feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. And then he did not say any more, for rest gave way to sleep, and Anne's music weaved into the fabric of his dreams.


	18. Chapter 18

When Marianne Wickham played the piano, it was as if an angel itself was walking through their small house. She played with feeling, and what she lacked in technical skill she made up for in emotion, so that every piece she played seemed somehow to speak to those that heard it. Comfort to the afflicted, hope to the depressed, joy to the contented, rest for the weary. Rest for her weary boy.

George Wickham had had a busy day. He had woken early, while his mother, too often restless at night, still slept, and had been bid to behave and stay silent by his father, who threatened a beating for every disturbance young George gave his sleeping mother. George had tiptoed out of doors, feeling sure that he would be able to run and shout without incurring his father's wrath if he was out of doors. He had not gone far before he had crossed paths with Fitzwilliam Darcy, and the two had had a merry day of adventures and trouble-making. Well, Darcy had had adventures. He, George, had inveigled his friend into a tiny bout of trouble-making, that had not ended well for either of them, although George had received the harsher end of the punishment, with a clip around the ear from the housekeeper of Pemberley, and a further lecture from his father, mercifully unaccompanied by anything worse, yet.

His mother had played this particular piece in an attempt to soothe her husband's bad temper as much as her son's high spirits, and it had the desired effect, permitting peace to reign undisturbed throughout the quiet house.

"He needs to recall his station in life," Mr Wickham grumbled, eyeing his son askance, and little caring whether he slept or not, and rather hoping his son _would_ hear himself being discussed and thus remedy his behaviour. Old Mr Darcy cut the boy rather more slack than he ought, perhaps because of the similarity in ages between George and Darcy's own son, Fitzwilliam, but Wickham knew that with every passing year that grace would lessen and he certainly had no wish for his son to outlast his patron's patience.

"He is a child, George," Marianne said, softly. "He is just a child."

"He is a _young man_ , and ought to behave so. How can he hope to keep hold of the living Mr Darcy has promised him if he continues to misbehave?"

"I do not think Mr Darcy intends him to be a curate until he is quite grown," Marianne said, her lips quirking into a smile. "So we need not fear for his character quite yet."

"Oaks grow from acorns, my dear, not horse-chestnuts."

Little George had heard every word of this and puzzled over it many times as he grew. When his mother died, the tragedy that ought to have united father and son distanced them further still, though, unbeknownst to him, Mr Wickham spoke favourably of his only son to Mr Darcy. He reserved his praise and his affection for his son for outside of his hearing, though, and so George grew up certain only that his father disliked him, blamed him for the loss of his mother, and drew further into himself so that when the elder George Wickham senior died, the younger did not mourn his passing with anything other than perfunctory sadness.

He embraced his liberty, then, finally free of the disapproving glare of his father, and behaved only well enough that his misdeeds might not reach the ears of old Mr Darcy, who was still disposed, on account of his friendship with George's father, to treat the boy well. Darcy had known, of course, and had witnessed enough of Wickham's misadventures at university to be able, if he saw fit, to destroy George's future with one or two well-timed words in his father's ear. That he had not done so had seemed, to George, a sign of weakness of character. He presumed Darcy keeping his secret only so that he might hold it over him later, enough blackmail fodder to keep George Wickham indebted to him for life. Wickham had traded one keeper in the form of a father for another, in the form of his friend. It was this feeling of being kept in a cage by those he did not consider his equal that made his desire for liberty grow still stronger: liberty he grasped for, at last, when Mr Darcy died, and his inheritance came to him. Darcy was quite content to hand off the value of the living in place of the living itself, doubting his friend's suitability for the life of a church just as roundly as George doubted himself. He was no minister, but he might make a lawyer. Then, law proving too taxing a profession, he turned to the acquisition of funds that might elevate him to gentleman. His dalliance with the regiment had been just that, dalliance, and he was fast en route to becoming a cautionary tale when he met Anne de Bourgh.

The music that had lulled George into reverie and dream stopped and the sudden silence brought him back, startlingly, to the present. He sat up, peering over the back of the chaise towards the piano.

"Is something the matter, my love?"

Anne shook her head, shooting him a tight-lipped smile.

"I think I may play something else, if you do not mind, George," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. "The tune is beautiful but altogether too melancholy at present. Might I instead attempt to lift our mood with a selection of jigs that I know will soon improve our spirits?"

Wickham nodded, warmly, naming one or two he had heard Anne play before and knew to be simple, jolly tunes.

If music forced his wife into remembrances of time past as surely as it had sent him, perhaps they could use it now to address the future.

"How dearly I would love to dance to this particular tune with you," Wickham said, hurrying to his feet once more, and shooting his wife a devilish grin, which caused her to laugh, and fumble her notes, shake off his sly glance and focus more firmly on the piano keys.

"My dear Mrs Wickham," he announced to the otherwise empty room. "Might you honour me with this dance?"

"I am playing!" Anne protested, never looking away from the piano.

"What was that? Oh, you would be delighted? Wonderful. Now you curtsey," he dipped his head, watching an imaginary Anne drop before him. "And I shall bow." He did as he said, offering his arm to his invisible partner and walking out their steps in pantomime so that when Anne did dare to look at him she laughed at his absurdity and the tune was abandoned in a crash of off-key chords.

"There, that better suits my wife!" Wickham said. "I do not like to see you melancholy. You have suffered too much with low spirits in your life, from now on you must always smile."

He crossed to the piano, perching on the seat next to her and reaching for a pile of sheet music before her.

"You must always give me a reason to smile, in that case," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

It was a simple instruction, spoken with the faith that he could never do otherwise. Wickham said nothing, pretending to examine a particular piece of music and make sense of the spidery notes. How his past had been successfully concealed from Anne's knowledge he did not know, but he was glad of it. Surely, what faith she had in him would be shattered if she did find out. Yet again Darcy held in his hands the power to undo all of Wickham's dreams for the future with one well-chosen word. Yet he had not! The time to deliver the crushing blow would have been in Scotland, surely, when the marriage was new enough not to survive such a revelation. An annulment would be more scandal than an elopement, but even that might be got over, or at the very least Anne smuggled back into the silent sanctuary in Kent, preserved in that mausoleum of her mother's. But Darcy had not spoken: indeed he had contrived to help, rather than hinder, Wickham's chances of happiness. Could it be that he had wanted his friend to succeed, even when they were boys? That his propensity to lecture had been borne of a desire to see Wickham repent and do better next time, rather than to hold his own pious success over his friend's head?

"What are you examining there so intently?" Anne asked, noting the way his attention was still fixed on the sheet music before him, though he saw nothing, and was busy puzzling over Fitzwilliam Darcy's intentions and actions, both past and present. Anne leaned forward, casting her eyes over the piece.

"A fine choice, George. I shall play this one next, for your enjoyment. Will you sit here beside me and turn the page, or do you wish to dance once more? I see you have a line of beauties from which to choose a partner." Anne pointed towards the empty wall.

"Nonsense," Wickham said, smiling to see his wife so taken with their game. "I am precisely where I wish to be. The only beauty I care to think of is you."


	19. Chapter 19

"Of course, Lattimer Place can hardly compete with Pemberley in terms of its spaciousness, its grounds or its history, but I like to think you have been happy here, Miss Georgiana."

Georgiana smiled, obediently. This was the third time in as many minutes that Mrs Hurst had made some attempt to compare the two properties and make an unsubtle dig at the fact that they had been persuaded into housing Georgiana. It made her feel awkward, although she knew that she was not the target of Mrs Hurst's comments. Sensing the mistress of the house re-arming for a fourth attempt, Georgiana turned desperately away, seizing upon the first person she saw for an alternative conversation.

"I imagine things are very different in Derbyshire than they were in Hertfordshire, Mrs Darcy. Tell me, do you miss your family?"

It was an innocent question, yet in the privacy of her own mind, Georgiana admitted not entirely innocent intentions lay behind it. She wished to hear, from Elizabeth's own lips, some mention of the famed Jane Bennet, whom Mr Bingley had spoken of with such fondness that Georgiana could hardly escape the truth of his affections for her. Why then, had he not proposed when they were still in Hertfordshire? There had been time enough for both William and Richard to secure matches from that same family.

"I do," Elizabeth said, with a short laugh. "But please, do not call me Mrs Darcy! It is so recently my name that I do not feel quite comfortable in it yet. And as we are to be sisters it seems altogether strange to persist in being so formal. Call me Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth. You mentioned two of your sisters: Mary, who is married to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and another…Jane, was it?" Georgiana blinked innocently. She remembered with clarity that the sister in question was Jane, but decided that feigning ignorance might prompt Elizabeth to share a little more detail about her sister than she would otherwise offer.

"Jane is my elder sister," Elizabeth confirmed. "She is the most beautiful of all of us! She possesses that elusive trait of feminine beauty, fair hair that does exactly as its owner wishes." Elizabeth grimaced comically. "My curly mop must be wrestled into submission on a daily basis."

"It suits you," Georgiana said, automatically. She smiled and felt a genuine glimmer of friendship. Elizabeth possessed the skill of self-deprecation that Georgiana, surrounded by people whose besetting sin was pride, particularly identified and appreciated. She did not denigrate herself out of a sense of false piety, as Caroline Bingley had a tendency to do, but in a desire to be humorous and self-effacing, so that one felt drawn into a joke that blessed all present.

"You are kind to say so," Elizabeth said, with a bright smile. "I often envied Jane her beauty, as I covet yours and Anne's delicate colouring, although I have to confess that I do not possess the spirit that suits such femininity. As a child, I was as likely to be climbing trees as I was to be patiently receiving calls from my neighbours." Her eyes sparkled. "Much to my parents' dismay."

"You climbed trees?" Georgiana was curious. "Did you never fall?"

"On several occasions!" Elizabeth laughed. "Fortunately along with my thick hair, I seem to have inherited a thick head, for it never did me any great harm."

"For that, we might rejoice," Darcy's low voice joined their conversation. "For I do not think I should like you half so well with all the sense knocked out of you."

It was such a simple compliment, so heartfelt and easily given that Georgiana straightened in surprise. She had never heard her brother speak so naturally of his affections, not even to her when they were young. She snuck a glance at him, touched to see the warm glance that the newlyweds exchanged, and felt her eyes fill with tears that she hurriedly blinked away. Could it be that they loved each other after all? She had been so determined to think the worst of Elizabeth, to assume her scheming to marry where position and wealth lay, and never quite trusting that she could love her brother for his own self. Darcy kept his true character hidden, and Georgiana herself often forgot what was there.

"I wonder if you might introduce me to some of the delights of Lattimer Place after dinner, Georgiana," Darcy said, noticing her scrutiny and seizing the opportunity to address her directly. "It has been so long since we talked."

Georgiana nodded, fervently, then remembered, slightly too late, that she was supposed to be angry with her brother, and tried to remedy this natural display of affection. She lifted her chin, mimicking the imperious glance that she had seen Caroline model so expertly.

"I would be honoured if you single me out for attention, brother, but surely you do not wish to abandon your wife amongst strangers."

Darcy's mouth drew into a confused line, and it was Elizabeth's quick response that averted an escalation.

"Amongst strangers! Georgiana, I considered Mr and Mrs Hurst, Mr and Miss Bingley my friends, even before our hasty journey northwards. Now I can consider Mr Bingley as nothing less than my own personal knight in shining armour. Truly, he rode out of the mists of London and offered me a solution to my own dire situation that I could scarcely have imagined outside of the covers of a book."

Darcy cleared his throat, and Elizabeth laughed, laying a soothing hand on his forearm.

"He cannot compare with you, of course, dear. But he is our very close friend and, I hope, perhaps an even closer relationship, in time."

Another look passed between husband and wife that, this time, Georgiana was not able to fully comprehend. She felt heat prick at her cheeks. Did they see in Mr Bingley what she had only recently begun to acknowledge, scarcely even giving vent to the feelings that began to stir within her own chest?

Elizabeth glanced back to her, and seeing something in Georgiana's features, leaned forwards, her own smile broadening.

"Mr Bingley has expressed an affection for my sister, Jane." Her smile darkened as she peered past Georgiana to Caroline. "Certain obstacles were placed in their way, and conspired to separate them, but I believe them to care for one another still. I shall endeavour to reunite them, whether by inviting Jane here or by encouraging Mr Bingley to return to Netherfield Park. Which do you think the most sensible option, Georgiana? You have seen Mr Bingley here at Lattimer Place. Is he happy here? Does he speak often of Hertfordshire?"

The conspiratorial nature of Elizabeth's conversation would otherwise have worn down the last of Georgiana's defences. She had so often longed for close female friendship that this unspoken invitation into intimacy with her new sister completely undid any reservations she still had against the young woman. It was the topic of conversation, however, that destroyed Georgiana's potential happiness at this new friendship. Match Mr Bingley with another? Send him away? She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. When she spoke her voice sounded tight, and cruel, not at all her own.

"I imagine my opinion matters little to you, Mrs Darcy, for you seem to have already determined upon your course of action. Mr Bingley will be married to your sister, whether such a state is welcomed or not."

She turned pointedly away, and inserted herself into Mrs Hurst's conversation with her sister, not pausing to see what impression her words had made on Elizabeth.


	20. Chapter 20

Darcy hovered close to the doorway of the sitting room, grateful that Mrs Hurst's enthusiastic request for dancing had been shouted down by other people, and saving him the difficult task of appearing rude or succumbing to the fate of dancing when he did not wish to. The notion of music had not been so easily abandoned, however, and each lady had taken her turn at the pianoforte. Even Elizabeth, who played haltingly, but received cursory praise from the ladies, and enthusiastic whoops of applause from both he and Mr Bingley.

Bingley joined Darcy in the corner he had claimed as his own.

"What fine talent our womenfolk possess, Darcy," he remarked, saluting Georgiana with a smile, which was returned as the pace of her piece increased in tandem.

Darcy nodded. He had hoped he might secure his sister for some moments' quiet conversation, but she was bound to the piano. If he had not known better he might have believed her set on avoiding him, but no, that was a nonsense. Georgiana played because she loved to, and she was a fixture at the piano because everybody else loved to hear her too. She was the most skilled, the most naturally talented of all the ladies present, so it was perfectly understandable that she should be the most in-demand performer.

Bingley seemed to notice some unspoken tension in his friend and nodded towards the doorway.

"Shall we take a walk, Darcy? Come, let's see if we can rustle up something palatable to drink."

Darcy did not remind his friend that there was a fairly well-stocked drinks cabinet in that very room, guarded as if a personal treasure by Mr Hurst, but instead followed him out into the dim corridor, the sound of Georgina's playing receding as they walked.

"How is your cousin?" Bingley asked, as soon as they were far enough away that they would not be overheard. "And Wickham?"

"Anne is well, I believe. I feared for her health on the journey, but she seems to have rallied, being settled in one place. And, at Pemberley, she might have all the notions necessary to her care without any great hardship. Wickham is…" he sighed, expansively, summing up his complex thoughts about his friends in the gesture. "Wickham."

Bingley nodded, a grim smile lighting his countenance.

"He says everything one might expect him to say, claiming to have changed, to be fixed with all certainty upon improving his position through hard work, study, application of his not-inconsiderable wits to good, sensible work."

"You do not believe him?"

"I believe his intentions are good, this time." Darcy shrugged. "But I also believe he lacks in discipline. He will fail at the first hurdle. The first enticement from a friend to return to his previous ways, of drinking and gambling and women…" he shook his head. "I cannot keep him under lock and key. He must want to change, and having decided, he must change."

"I am sure your housing them at Pemberley will assist him in his goals." Bingley smiled. "And you know Georgiana is welcome to stay here as long as she wishes."

"Yes, Georgiana…" Darcy sighed. "Tell me, how is she, really?"

"Charming!" Bingley laughed. "Of course, I am biased. Had I a sister so charming as yours, Darcy, my life would be altogether happier."

"If you were happier, Charles, your feet would scarcely touch the ground," Darcy grumbled, nonetheless pleased to see his friend's admiration of Georgiana. "She does not seem unduly melancholy, then?"

Bingley shook his head.

"You told her about Wickham?"

"Had to." Bingley pulled a face. "She overheard a conversation with Caroline, and there was nothing for it but to confess what we knew. She took the news well, though. She was surprised, of course, but there were no tears, no fits of pique." He shook his head, slowly. "If I did not know of all that had transpired between them, I would think her indifferent, truly."

"That is good," Darcy said, mechanically. He did not want to see Georgiana upset, but he could not quite shake the fear that all was not entirely as it appeared. He himself was adept at hiding his true feelings and feared his sister merely concealing her anguish. He was learning, slowly, that such concealment was not conducive to good health or a happy life: he wished to spare his sister such a lesson.

"I think she misses Pemberley," Bingley commented, after a few moments of silence.

"It is her home, Darcy, she ought not to be uprooted and forced out of it, no matter the circumstances."

"No." Darcy drew in a breath. "If her feelings are as you say, if she is truly accepting of the state of things between Wickham and Anne, there seems little enough reason to keep her at arm's length." He smiled. "In truth, I have missed her. I long for her and Elizabeth to be close friends, I think they both will benefit from such a relationship. My wife is used to being one of five, I do not doubt she is lacking for female companionship, and my sister is too prone to isolation. I have long wished her to find more and better society."

"And so you have done the decent thing and married it. What a fine brother you are!" Charles guffawed at his own joke, and Darcy permitted a wry smile in acknowledgement of his friend's superior wit.

"Remedial repairs to the Lodge are almost complete. Perhaps then, once Wickham and Anne are settled and need not remain under the same roof, Georgiana will be more than happy to come back. What do you think?"

"It's a sensible suggestion." Bingley's ear cocked towards the sitting room. "But I am the wrong person with whom to raise it. Listen, it sounds as if the performance has finished. Let us steal Miss Georgiana away from her rapturous audience and you might ask her yourself…"


	21. Chapter 21

George Wickham had woken early, almost as much to his own surprise as to the servants, whose practised indifference was not mask enough to entirely hide their feelings. Not that Wickham cared for their opinions. He was careful not to disturb his wife nor any other members of the household, dressing quietly and tiptoeing towards the door. He scribbled a quick note, alerting Anne to his absence and explaining he had a few errands to see to in town, but would intend to be back by early afternoon.

The walk to Newton was a familiar one, although it had been some years since he had walked it. The drills he had been forced to undertake as part of the regiment had served him well, though, and he grudgingly sent a silent prayer of thanks to his commanding officer for enforcing them so rigorously. He could walk at a pace without any of the discomforts he might have felt previously. Society was waking and beginning to go about their business as he reached the outskirts of the town, and he happily fell to his tasks, going around each of the marketers in turn and reviewing his old accounts. Many of the shopkeepers remembered him, or his name.

"Wickham?" they asked, arching eyebrows or frowning sternly as their memories furnished them with the debts and misbehaviours of the man before them. When they did not immediately recall, he, himself, offered details he would perhaps prefer remained forgotten. It was important to him, though, that nothing was left lurking in the darkness. Better it be brought into the light, faced and addressed now. _If I am to take responsibility, let it be for everything, and let it begin now._

He had drawn up a list of outstanding debts, and presented his account to each shop in turn, outlining his plans for repayment. From many, he was turned away, laughed at as if mad. He kept a mental note of those debts that had already been paid in full by one Fitzwilliam Darcy. With every appointment, Wickham's opinion of his friend rose, as his opinion of himself sank lower still. Darcy had followed up on every shameful debt Wickham had incurred, paying them in full, time after time and ensuring that he, not the merchants, bore the brunt of Wickham's excesses. The debt Wickham owed his friend grew and grew, but Wickham was determined he would repay every penny if it took him a lifetime.

His next visit was to his old friend Symons, a friend from younger days who had nonetheless succeeded in business and held a small office in town in addition to his country estate. Symons was a smart man, and quick. He languished in the countryside, he said, and so left that lazy life to his wife and children. He was most often found in the town, in the hustle and bustle of the businesses and workers he profited by. Wickham located the building, taking the stone steps two at a time and rapping smartly on the door before his courage faltered.

"Yes?" The clerk who answered the door was young and gave Wickham a bored glare.

"I'm here to see Mr Symons," Wickham said.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"I'm an old friend." Wickham peered over the young fellow's shoulder, grateful to be a head taller and a good bit broader in the chest than him. "It will not take long."

"Mr Symons is very busy," the boy began.

"Who is it, Jones?" Symons' unmistakable growl reached Wickham's ears, and he took it as an unspoken invitation to step forward, pushing past the young man and into the property.

"George Wickham, Symons. How the devil are you?"

"George Wickham!" His friend boomed with laughter, and Wickham followed the sound to a room with wide windows and a huge desk. "When did you arrive back here? Last I heard you were in the regiment…."

"Things change," Wickham said, leaning over and shaking his friend's hand. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" he asked, casting a glance over his friend's chaotic desk.

"Nothing that can't wait." Symons closed his ledger with a thud and turned to his brandy decanter. "You'll have a drink?"

Wickham bit his lip but nodded. He might take one, and nurse it, and still not abandon his promise to himself altogether.

"So, the war. Dreadful business." Symons said, but his tone of voice indicated the precise opposite. "Mind you, certainly profitable." He patted the leather cover of his ledger with a confident smile. "You ought to have gone into business, Wickham, and not bothered with this soldiering lark. Far more profitable, far less likely to cause damage to one's life and limb." He glanced over Wickham from head to toe. "Mind you, you do not seem adversely affected. You on leave?"

"Indefinitely," Wickham said, with a brash smile that belied his anxiety. "Decided it wasn't for me." He took a tiny sip of his drink. "I'm a thinking man, Symons, and that does not always make for a most obedient soldier."

"True, true," Symons chuckled. "So what are you doing with yourself?" He leaned back in his chair, regarding Wickham with interest. "You married?"

"Recently," he said.

"Congratulations."

Wickham nodded his thanks and cleared his throat. This would be the best opportunity he would have of putting his request to his friend, and better to do it now and have done with it.

"Actually, it is on account of my marriage that I am at Pemberley again."

"Darcy let you have the curacy?" Symons' eyes widened.

"The living was sold. And even if it were not, can you really see me succeed as a minister?" He arched an eyebrow, and Symons hooted with laughter.

"No, indeed." He downed his drink and looked at Wickham thoughtfully. "And now I see the real reason for your impromptu visit to an old friend. You are looking for work?"

Wickham reddened, and dropped his gaze.

 _You vowed to withstand any humiliation, remember,_ he counselled himself. Now, faced with the scornful stare of a man he used to drink under the table and think, privately, a fool, the vow seemed a nonsense. He drew in a breath and forced his gaze up.

"I am a good worker, Symons, and smart. You know my mental calculations far outstrip even yours in speed and accuracy."

"Yes, you never had a problem _counting_ the money," Symons remarked, with a grim smile. "Keeping it, on the other hand…"

Wickham said nothing, allowing the barb to land.

"So, allow me to see if I am understanding you correctly," Symons said, leaning forward and folding his hands together. "You wish me to offer you work?"

Wickham nodded, meeting his friend's smug gaze without expression, though it cost him all of his limited self-discipline not to flee the room then and there.

"I will take whatever wages you consider fair. Your young clerk, for instance. Pair me with him. I can teach him all I know -" Symons let out a snort, which Wickham ignored. "And he might teach me in turn. In a few months, you will have two clerks well-versed enough in the business to be able to do you a real benefit."

"And I must pay twice the salary, for twice the employees."

"You will make double your profits. Or more." Wickham was blustering, but he was also not unaware of his own skill and worth. If he had applied himself to his studies, as Symons had, and not allowed himself to be side-tracked, or willfully ignored all commitment to work and self-improvement, their situations might be reversed. It might be him sitting behind a desk, considering whether or not to be of some assistance to an old friend.

"Please," Wickham managed, at last. "I ask only for this chance, and I ask you because of our previous friendship. I was always only too willing to be of assistance to you when you required it."

Symons grew serious, and Wickham wondered if recalling a youthful indiscretion on his friend's part had been wise. Wickham had put his own name on the line to save Symons' reputation, for his own already bore the scars of similar misbehaviour and he could weather further shame better than his friend. Recalling it to mind now, however, may have been overstepping the mark.

"I have not forgotten what you did for me," Symons growled. "So you need not resort to blackmail if that was your intent."

"No -" Wickham began. "I meant only -"

"I know precisely your meaning." Symons snapped. "But, fortunately for you, my young clerk is slow-witted. Trustworthy, but slow-witted. Perhaps if you were to work alongside him, you might both learn a little of one another's virtues."

Wickham could not quite believe what he was hearing.

"Then you will -"

"I will hire you, George. But do not expect any particular favours because of our shared history. It is that and that alone which has secured you this position in the first place. I have my misgivings about hiring you, but I can appreciate desperation when I see it." His sneering tone gave way to a glimmer of genuine sympathy. "Do not make me regret my actions. You will be here early on the morrow to begin…"

Wickham scarcely heard the rest of Symons' conditions. He gratefully accepted each and every one, promising the earth and vowing, somehow, he would manage to deliver it.

When he left his friend's rooms, he walked with his head held higher than it had been in many months, and a strange sense of accomplishment buoyed his mood. He would be poor, he had accepted that. There would be no quick solution, no hand of cards that would turn his fate around. He had promised, and for once in his life, he intended to stand by his word, and seek, somehow, to win back the respect of his wife and his friend. _Darcy believes I will fail. I must now prove him wrong._


	22. Chapter 22

Darcy had departed the breakfast table with the goal of paying a visit to the Lodge. He wished to see for himself how much work remained outstanding before Mr and Mrs Wickham might be settled there. Lizzy had agreed with his plan that it would be wisest for Georgiana to remain at Lattimer Place until Wickham was at least out of their house. With him and Anne resident within the boundaries of Pemberley, there would be no chance of preventing Georgiana from seeing them entirely, but it would be a kindness to at least enable them not to have to lodge under the exact same roof.

With her husband fully occupied, Lizzy fell to learning the running of Pemberley, a job which she had been particularly dreading. She was lamenting over her poor preparation for such a role when Anne discovered her, hiding in the corner of an otherwise empty room.

"Lizzy!" Anne cried, her surprise dissolving into laughter at the furtive way her friend retreated still further into the corner until Anne closed the door firmly and reassured her that they were alone. "What on earth is the matter?"

"I am!" Lizzy exclaimed. "I am a disaster as a housekeeper."

"It is a good job you are not hired to be one, then," Anne said, sensibly. "Now, really, tell me what is wrong."

Lizzy relayed the conversation she had had that morning with the actual housekeeper, emphasising the circular nature of the conversation and her own personal flaws in asking what turned out to be simple questions with entirely self-evident answers.

"I have never felt so ridiculous!" she wailed. "I am just so relieved that Darcy was not here to witness my ineptitude."

"For he is so personally skilled in the management of one's linens," Anne said, scornfully. "Lizzy, dear! You are too hard on yourself. Come, let us walk through the house together, and see if we cannot find some answers to the question of _what the mistress of such an estate ought to do_ between us."

The offer was so warmly given and accompanied with so friendly a smile that Elizabeth agreed that the suggestion was a good one, and allowed Anne to gently lead her out of her corner and back out into the corridor.

"Jane was always the natural housekeeper of the two of us," Lizzy remarked, after telling Anne a little of life in Longbourn. "I was more likely to get into scrapes and tear my dresses. Jane never caused anybody a moment's trouble!"

"And I am sure everybody loves her for it," Anne said, smiling broadly. "But she probably does not have half so many amusing anecdotes to share."

Lizzy laughed.

"Indeed! I might alienate the staff, and be the butt of their jokes below stairs, but at least I can tell an amusing story to my guests. That will make up for the lack of tea, or mismatched table-settings."

"You are too critical of yourself," Anne said, determined to raise Elizabeth's spirits. "Nobody is born knowing how to run a household. We must learn it by steps. Admittedly, your household is larger than some." She smiled. "But Mary will have the same lessons to learn, and hers will be all the harder for Colonel Fitzwilliam has been as often out of a house as inside one of late. He will need to learn just as much as his wife will. Where do they intend to settle, do you think?"

"They have lingered in London longer than either one intended, I believe. I think originally they had planned to travel north, but now it sounds as if they will return to Hertfordshire, perhaps calling in - that is, perhaps visiting Longbourn again, for I expect Mary to be quite homesick after so much travel in the past few months."

"Hertfordshire is not too far from Kent," Anne mused. "Perhaps they might be induced to call on Mama. I know she formed quite a quick attachment to Mary on your eventful visit to us before Christmas. It would - it would no doubt do her some good to have visitors again, to distract from…all that has happened."

"Have you heard from Lady Catherine at all?" Lizzy asked, sensing from Anne's raising the subject that she dearly longed to confide in someone, and feeling that, with no direct link to Lady Catherine, she was perhaps the best person for such a confidence. "I know Darcy wrote to tell her that we were all settled at Pemberley and to invite her to visit, should she wish to, at any point."

"Travel all this way?" Anne shook her head, vehemently. "Mama will never make such a journey, even if she were not - that is - "

"Predisposed against the new mistress of Pemberley?" Lizzy smiled slyly. "Anne, you cannot mean to tell me that your mother would not wish to see for herself what a disaster I am making of running the house. Recall, she was quite adamant that marrying me would be a foolish match and a mistake for Mr Darcy. She might come here and see her own fears proved accurate, how could she resist such a visit?"

Anne laughed, but the sound was polite rather than genuine.

"I am sure she will relent in time, once she sees that you and Mr Wickham are happy together." Lizzy paused. "You are happy, are not you?"

"Very." Anne nodded, fervently. "He has gone out early to see to some errands in Newton. I know he is grateful to Darcy for allowing us to stay here, but I am sure he is eager to begin making our own way in the world. To lose Mama's money is…is a blow, but it cannot be helped." Anne fixed Lizzy with a shrewd gaze. "I know that William is convinced that George married me for nought but the money I promised, but he is mistaken. Oh, I daresay the rumour of an inheritance proved an additional pull to my husband, I am not foolish enough to think someone as handsome and intelligent as he would single me out on account of my remarkable personality or stunning beauty." She rolled her eyes skywards. "Although it is flattering to hear him say as much. But he is not as grasping as you may think. He has had difficulties in his life, and he has made mistakes - but he is also the first to admit to them, and he is working so hard to change, now, that I truly think he will do it, and become a great success. I am merely glad to be able to support him in it."

Lizzy was so touched by this little speech that she embraced her friend warmly.

"I think you are, quite possibly, a saint. It is wonderful to see you so determined, for it brings a spark and a fire to your eyes that has been sadly lacking." Lizzy's voice softened. "You cannot begin to imagine how we feared for your health, Anne. Yet here, you seem altogether better."

"I feel better. Yes, even with the knowledge of Mama's ire, I can bear it better here, somehow. It is an easier burden to carry, surrounded by family and friends."

The two young women linked arms and continued their progress throughout the house in companionable silence, with Lizzy storing up every mention Anne made of Mr Wickham and their plans for the future to relay to her husband. Darcy would not be so quick to believe in Wickham's promises to turn over a new leaf, she knew that, but she would strive to convince him to at least let the man try. Perhaps he would surprise them all! All except his wife, who, it seemed to Lizzy, already saw the newly successful Mr Wickham in the shell of possibility he was at present. If only Lady Catherine could share her daughter's optimism, their relationship might be repaired and everyone brought together as they were before. _No,_ she reasoned. _Not as before._ Anne was much more her own person than she had ever been permitted to be in Kent. She moved with purpose and with confidence, determined not only to live with, but thrive with, the decisions she had made.

"Tell me," Anne said, after a few moments. "How is Georgiana? I do hope she will be permitted to return home soon."

"She is not kept away by force!" Lizzy said, with a tight smile. She felt a little unnerved by her interactions with Georgiana the previous evening. She had felt, at length, as if any awkwardness that had existed between the two of them was being got over. It was clear Georgiana was a little curious of her, perhaps even suspicious, but that was not to be wondered at when one considered that her closest confidant had lately been Miss Caroline Bingley, whose opinion of Elizabeth had never been entirely complimentary. Then, at last, she had reverted to referring to Lizzy as _Mrs Darcy_ and it was as if the wall between them, gradually demolished one brick at a time, had flown up again, distancing them as much as ever.

"It is on account of Mr Wickham and me," Anne said, quietly. "You need not lie to me, Lizzy. I know that she must be ashamed of the way we married. I cannot expect everyone to be as generous as you or William."

"No!" Lizzy said. "She does not judge you. It is just that…" Lizzy bit her lip, wondering how much to share of Georgiana's previous associations with George Wickham. "They had a friendship, at one point, Georgiana and Mr Wickham." She smiled, sadly. "They did not part well."

Anne's lips turned down.

"Then they must be reacquainted. I am sure there was merely a misunderstanding. Do you think, once we are settled at the Lodge, Georgiana might come home again, and we might begin the task of slowly rebuilding their friendship?"

"Maybe." Lizzy smiled, turning towards the stairs. "Now, we have covered the ground floor. Would you like to rest or are you happy to continue with our tour?"


	23. Chapter 23

"Are you sure you would not prefer to sit with my sisters awhile, Miss Georgiana?"

"Not at all!" Georgiana said, continuing to walk with determination alongside Mr Bingley. "But you need not feel you must accompany me if you prefer to remain in the tea-rooms…"

The grimace that momentarily rested upon his features was answer enough, despite his manful attempts to disguise it, and Georgiana laughed.

"I confess I rather tire of the conversations of ladies at times," Mr Bingley confided.

"Ah…then you wish me to debate politics?" Georgiana frowned. "Or perhaps to discuss, in detail, the merits of shooting or…" she spied inspiration trotting towards her and smiled. "Horses!" Her eyes sparkled, remembering their previous conversations about these wondrous animals, and was happily rewarded by Mr Bingley's answering smile.

"Yes, horses! We have not yet managed to plan a ride, have we? I am sure we might persuade Caroline to join us, for it is one thing to escort you unaccompanied around Newton but perhaps we ought not to ride off into the distance together."

"Do you fear scandal, Mr Bingley?"

She had meant the comment innocently enough, selecting it for humour rather than offence, yet her companion coloured and rather abruptly changed the topic of their conversation, whilst putting rather more distance between them than was strictly necessary. Georgiana sighed. She may have acted foolish with George Wickham, but did that mean people would treat her as if she were made of glass for the rest of her days? First Darcy, and now Charles. She wondered what he and her brother had discussed at dinner the previous evening. They had disappeared for quite some time, and when they returned, Darcy had bid her speak to him, which she had grudgingly done. He had found the exchange difficult, and her anger towards him softened when she saw how anxious he was for her comfort. She listened quietly to his retelling of all that had transpired between Anne and Wickham, feeling sadness only for her cousin's sorry fate. She was pleased to note that her feelings for Wickham were all but gone, replaced almost entirely by her growing affections for another gentleman, although she certainly did not mean to convey this to her brother. She had striven to convince him that all would be well: that she would happily remain at Lattimer Place and return to Pemberley only once Mr and Mrs Wickham were comfortably settled in their new home, so as to not unduly upset the balance of the household.

"Oh, look!" Georgiana exclaimed as the passed a particularly elegant shop window, decorated with sheet music and notions. She pressed her face to the glass, squinting to read the titles and make out the melodies of the pieces on display.

"Would you like to go inside?" Mr Bingley asked, with an amused smile. "We are not under any time pressure if you would care to browse."

Georgiana beamed, delighted at this suggestion, and reached for the door, but before she had even a tight grasp of the handle, it swung open beneath her hand, and a figure stepped into her path.

"Forgive me," he murmured.

"Sorry -" Georgiana glanced up, her mouth falling open in surprise. "George!" She shook her head. "I mean, Mr Wickham. Good - good afternoon."

"Miss Georgiana." Wickham's shock at seeing her slid hastily into a smile, but he glanced away from her almost as quickly, locating Charles Bingley standing but a few feet away, and nodding a greeting to him. "Charles. It is a fine day, is it not?"

Mr Bingley murmured something in vague agreement and took a step closer to them.

"Well, I do not mean to delay your progress, Miss Darcy." Wickham bowed. "You wish to peruse the music, I do not doubt."

"I do. Have you - have you been to purchase something?" Georgiana asked, desperately latching onto some possible safe topic of conversation. She saw the small scroll he held in one hand. "You bought some music? Oh, for Anne. Yes. Of course. For your wife."

Her words came out in a jumble as she hurried to string her thoughts together into some coherence, and she noticed Wickham's features fall slightly at her mention of Anne.

"I must offer you my congratulations," she said, stubbornly determined that she would have the dread conversation here and now and be done with it. "I had heard your news. I hope you will be very happy together."

"It is kind of you to say so, Miss Darcy," Wickham said, stiffly. "You were always far kinder to me than I deserved."

"What have you been about this morning, Wickham?" Bingley asked, suspicion weighing heavily in his words.

"You need not fear any misbehaviour, Mr Bingley," Wickham said, unable to prevent a trace of bitterness from colouring his response. "I have been in search of an old friend: I found him. My business is conducted and now I shall return home."

"You cannot mean to walk all the way to Pemberley!" Georgiana exclaimed. "Why, it is so far!"

"It is not such a distance," Wickham said, with a smile. "And I have no other means of transport at present. I do not mind the walk."

"No, Miss Georgiana is right," Bingley said. "Why not wait a moment, and I shall fetch our carriage to take you. If you will just allow me to return Miss Georgiana to our companions -"

"I should like to go with you," Georgiana said, quickly. "To Pemberley. I think we might call all together, do not you?"

Bingley looked indecisive for a moment, as if he were not sure of the wisdom of such a journey, yet unable to summon in a moment any reason not to go.

"I will inquire of my sisters…" he began feebly.

"I am quite sure they shall wish to come too," Georgiana said, sensing she had won the argument and feeling a little bad for Mr Bingley at being so easily overruled. "Just this morning Caroline was remarking upon how long it has been since she was last at Pemberley. We might remedy the situation now!"


	24. Chapter 24

Work was progressing with all haste on the Lodge, and Darcy was pleased to hear his foreman's assertion that the place would be liveable in just another few days. He disliked the feeling of uncertainty that existed in the house at present. With Wickham there, and Georgiana gone, everything seemed to Darcy a little off-balance, and he was beginning to feel the creep of exhaustion. So much had happened in a few months, it had been a tumultuous time, and he knew he would not be able to fully relax and enjoy the new chapter he and Elizabeth were embarking upon while he was holding his breath, waiting for Wickham's inevitable mistake. He would still feel heavy concern for the man, and for Anne, but if they were at least out from under his own roof he might relish the freedom afforded by distance.

He had enjoyed the opportunity for a ride, as well, for he had taken out his favourite of the horses, and ridden the perimeter of his grounds, enjoying revisiting the places he had not seen for some time and seeking out the earliest hints of spring. It was early afternoon before he reached the house again, and he strode confidently through the door, seeking his wife.

"Mrs Darcy is with Mrs Wickham," a servant informed him. "In the library."

Darcy smiled. There was little enough surprise there. Had he known Anne to be with Elizabeth he would have hazarded a guess at their being found in one of two rooms: the music room or the library, where each lady might indulge in their shared interest in the arts.

He picked up his pace as he neared the library, suddenly eager to tell his cousin of the improvements he had personally overseen that morning at the home that would soon be hers. He might never come to rejoice in her match with George Wickham, but it gave him a strange sense of joy to play some part, however small, in ensuring her comfort and contentment in this new season.

"Ladies?" he inquired, knocking lightly on the door and waiting for a feminine, "Yes?" before pushing the door open.

"William!" Anne cried. "We were just speaking of you."

"Oh?" He smiled, lifting his gaze to Elizabeth's. "Ought I to be concerned?"

"Yes indeed!" his wife said, with a teasing smile. "We were telling the most appalling secrets…"

"I am sure," he said, recalling wryly the way such a comment would have plagued him mere months earlier. Now he took the joke for what it was and left his wife to her teasing. Spying a scrap of paper in her hand, he queried it, leaning against the window nearest her. "What is that?"

"A letter!" Elizabeth exclaimed, holding out the note to him and jabbing at it excitedly. "It just arrived and oh, my dear, you will not believe it! I scarcely believe it myself. Jane is to be married!"

"Jane?" Darcy took the letter, his eyes scanning a page of neat writing before he stumbled upon the offending post-script.

 _We stopped in Hertfordshire long enough to call on Mama and Papa, and what providence that we did! Elizabeth, prepare yourself. Jane, our own sister, has accepted a proposal of marriage! The gentleman in question is a Mr Heatherington, recently arrived in Hertfordshire and by all accounts, the courtship has been a swift one. We are all astonishment, although Mama is quite in the seventh heaven of delight to consider not two but_ three _of her daughters married or engaged to be married. Kitty is thrilled with the romance it all but Lydia declares herself "bored with weddings", although I think it likely she is mostly bored of any adventure that does not directly involve her_ _…_

He straightened, folding the letter and passing it back to his wife, having no interest to be seen delving into the personal reactions of Elizabeth's family.

"Wonderful news," he said, raising his eyebrows. "That is usually what one says upon the news of an engagement, is it not?"

A meaningful look was exchanged between the two ladies which left Darcy utterly confused.

"You miss the point."

"You miss it entirely!"

Darcy shrugged, turning to his wife and dropping a kiss on her forehead.

"Then enlighten me, dear, for I see we shall get nowhere until you do."

"Jane is to be married," Elizabeth said, speaking slowly as if she were addressing a particularly stupid child. "To a stranger! To some fellow called Heatherington, from who knows where!"

"And good luck to her," Darcy said, with a nod. "You must recall, my dear, that we were not always known to each other." His lips quirked at the memory of how each of them had pledged, upon meeting, never to have a single thing to do with the other. How things changed!

"It is not that which concerns me," Elizabeth said, with exaggerated patience. "She is to wed _Mr Heatherington_. Not _Mr Bingley._ _"_

Darcy's heart sank, dragging his smile with it.

"Ah," he said.

"Ah!" Elizabeth echoed. "Precisely! Poor Mr Bingley will be heart-broken."

"He will be disappointed," Darcy acknowledged. "But I fear you place rather too much weight on Mr Bingley's slavery to his emotions. He is a sensible fellow. He shall rally. I hardly think we need fear him laying a prior claim to Miss Bennet's affections, for the question was never settled between them, was it?"

"That was not his fault!" Elizabeth cried.

"No?" Darcy frowned, utterly lost in this interplay of circumstance that had largely passed beneath his notice.

"No," Anne said, patiently.

"He departed Hertfordshire in great haste, to London. But it was hardly at his insistence, as I once thought. No, poor Mr Bingley was _forced away_ by his sister. Caroline was determined that he not marry my sister."

Darcy swallowed, recalling a time when he and Caroline were of shared opinion when it came to Bingley's affections.

"Well, now he cannot marry her, so perhaps all works for the best," he said, desperately glancing towards the door. There was a noise elsewhere in the house, and he hurried to bring this conversation to a close before he succeeded in drawing his wife's ire upon himself.

There was a second knock at the library door and this time a servant addressed him.

"Mr Wickham has returned, sir. He comes in a party with Mr Bingley, Mrs Hurst, Miss Bingley and Miss Georgiana. Shall I say that you are seeing guests?"


	25. Chapter 25

Darcy's footsteps were so thunderous as to be quite audible from a distance, and Wickham sank quickly into the first chair he came to, seeking a moment's reprieve. A moment was all he was permitted, however, before he heard the door swing open and leapt to his feet.

"Darcy! Good afternoon."

Darcy ignored him entirely, turning first to Mr Bingley, then the ladies, his gaze at last resting on Georgiana, who smiled back at him, a hint of defiance playing about her features.

"It was entirely by chance that we passed each other in the street, Darcy," Bingley said, anxiety making his words tumble out one after another. "And the fellow proposed to walk from Newton. It seemed insensible when we had a perfectly good carriage waiting by, and Georgiana was eager to call at Pemberley, and…"

Darcy dismissed the torrent of explanation with a wave of his hand.

"Of course. Well, do sit down, everyone. We need not stand on ceremony, this is Georgiana's home, after all."

Everyone sat down, glancing up when the door opened once more to admit Elizabeth and Anne, who flew to Georgiana's side, throwing her arms around her cousin with enthusiasm.

"Georgiana my dear! Oh, it has been so long. How are you?"

"Well," Georgiana said, meeting her cousin's smile with one of her own. If Wickham had clung to any anxieties over Georgiana's feelings towards Anne he need not have worried on his account. In fact, he seemed utterly forgotten by both ladies, who fell to conversing quite naturally about all manner of topics, and both Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst sought, unsuccessfully, to interpose their own thoughts and opinions whenever either young lady paused for breath.

"Mr Bingley," Elizabeth said, her features falling into a desperate smile. She crumbled a scrap of paper in one hand and sought to hide it, at length crossing to a small side table, where she smoothed it out and slid it beneath a book. "How lovely to have you here. How are you?"

It had not escaped Wickham's notice that Darcy said not a word, but fixed him with a glare that rivalled a gargoyle's. Wickham shifted uncomfortably in his seat, although he knew he had done nothing wrong. Indeed, he had attempted to avoid Georgiana, to avoid this very meeting, and would have done, were it not for Georgiana herself suggesting it.

"Anne said you were seeing to errands in town," Darcy said, gruffly. "Did you succeed?"

Wickham nodded.

"And what errands were so enticing?" Darcy pressed, in a low voice.

Wickham knew he ought to be grateful for the stabilising presence of their neighbours, fearing that Darcy would not rest with polite enquiry if they were alone.

"I wished to meet with an old friend," Wickham said. "Mr Frederick Symons."

Darcy's eyes narrowed, as if he, too, recalled Symons from earlier days and did not view him as warmly as Wickham appeared to.

"I see. So you were revisiting old haunts."

"I was seeking employment."

A hush had fallen over the room at precisely the moment Wickham spoke, and when he glanced around he realised that he, not the pockets of conversation that had previously occupied his neighbours, had become the centre of attention. Anne's hands flew to her lips.

"Oh, George. And?"

"He has agreed to take me on as a clerk," Wickham muttered, looking at the floor and feeling more like a wayward schoolboy than ever.

"You are genuine?" Darcy asked.

Wickham nodded.

"It is not much, but I can hardly wish for more at present."

"I call it a jolly good step in the right direction!" Bingley said, being the first to stride forward and shake Wickham's hand with enthusiasm. "Congratulations on securing a position. You'll soon be running the place."

Wickham was touched by his confidence, and still more touched that the notion of working in trade did not lower him in Bingley's estimation. The same could hardly be said for the fellow's sisters, who both stared, askance.

"Do you suppose we still have any connections of Father's that might be of assistance, Caro?" Bingley asked, and Caroline flushed redder than the bowl of apples that adorned the sideboard next to her.

"I do not wish for shortcuts," Wickham said, truthfully. "I am determined to earn my way, this time. To use my brains for good and earn any success I may have in the future."

At last, he looked up to Darcy one more time and saw, though he doubted it, the faintest glimmer of approval lurking in the depths of his friend's dark eyes.

"Oh George, I am so happy for you!" Anne said, flying forwards and embracing him.

"It is nothing as yet," he said, nonetheless pleased to have won such affection and grudging admiration from his friends. "But, I thought, worthy of celebration." He retrieved the thin scroll of music from his pocket and passed it to his wife.

Untying the ribbon that held it closed, Anne smoothed it out, running her fingers over the staves.

"It is complicated!" she laughed. "But it would make a fine duet." She peered over her shoulder towards Georgiana. "Would you play it with me?"

Caroline opened her mouth to suggest that she, too, might be quite capable of playing a part, but all eyes seemed inexplicably fixed on Georgiana, who smiled at the newlyweds and nodded.

"I would be honoured. Only…" she glanced towards the door. "Perhaps we might take a quarter-hour to practice it in private before risking a performance?"


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N - Apologies for the chapter-avalanche, but as I just hit publish on the *last* book in this series (more on that in a mo') I decided to sally forth and finish up sharing #5 here. So...sorry not sorry :)_

 _I am also excited to let you know that the last book in this little series has just hit the digital book-shelves, as of today! It's called A Surprise Engagement and hopefully wraps up this 6-book series more or less satisfactorily. I confess I've been so busy with writing and life I am behind on reading comments so I am sorry if you've been beating your heads against your keyboards in frustration but I have had a lot of fun writing and I can only hope you have enjoyed the reading._

 _I'll be back on Monday *hopefully* to start sharing A Surprise Engagement but it is available for purchase now if you don't want to wait._

 _Until Monday, enjoy these chapters and we'll catch up in chapter one of book 6._

 _See you then! xx_

* * *

The afternoon passed in a flurry of conversation and good-humour, much to Elizabeth's surprise. She was still reeling from Mary's news, but any anxiety she felt had been put at rest to hear of Wickham's employment and to see Georgiana and Anne so well acquainted. It seemed to her that this Georgiana was entirely different from the Georgiana who she had met the previous evening, and she wondered if it had been shyness alone that had given her the impression that her new sister was not fond of her.

The two young ladies returned after the passing of the promised quarter-hour, and everyone paused in their conversation to listen to the new piece, played together haltingly but not without feeling or skill. Elizabeth was the first to applaud when it was finished.

"Who shall play for us now?" Caroline asked, in a tone of voice that indicated that she would very much like to do so, but would not volunteer herself. Elizabeth was in so good a mood that she felt eminently capable of being generous to her friend on this occasion.

"Well, it certainly shall not be me!" A polite laugh. "Caroline, you play so well in your own style, won't you favour us with a piece?"

Elizabeth had ended up seated, quite by chance, near to Mr Bingley and it was in the spare seat nearby that Georgiana sought to settle, exchanging a glance with Mr Bingley as she passed him that Elizabeth could not understand. Georgiana must have recognised her confusion, for she leaned closer and whispered an explanation.

"This is Miss Bingley's favourite piece. We have heard it upwards of a dozen times….since yesterday."

Elizabeth stifled her laugh, and leaned back in her seat, grateful to feel herself an ally at last in Georgiana's eyes.

Her gaze strayed to Darcy's, and she was relieved to see how relaxed he seemed. He glanced sporadically towards where Wickham sat, with his hand warmly on his wife's, as if he could scarcely recognise the fellow before him. _A clerk! Wickham is to be a clerk!_ It was not a great position, nor would it be anything close to the wealth Anne was used to from her time in Kent, but it was far, far better than Darcy and Elizabeth had feared for their friends. And despite Wickham's insistence to work only for himself, Elizabeth thought she could already sense the wheels turning in Darcy's head for ways he could make the road to advancement an easier path to walk for his cousin's husband. She would not quite suggest that Darcy considered Wickham a friend, not yet. But perhaps their relationship might one day begin to be repaired.

As Caroline brought her piece to a close, too fast and frenetic by half, she was invited to play another and preened at the piano a moment while she made her selection, evidently enjoying the attention lavished upon her.

"Miss Elizabeth." Mr Bingley leaned closer to her, speaking in a whisper. "Forgive me, Mrs Darcy. It seems I never can keep your new name straight in my head. I wonder if you have heard lately from Longbourn? How fares everyone in Hertfordshire?"

His question was asked in a low voice, and a guileless one, but Lizzy could not help but imagine his own personal interest in one particular resident of Longbourn, and the news she must share weighed heavily on her heart. _He will rally_ , Darcy had said. _It is not so great a tragedy._ Well, there was nothing to be gained from keeping the secret.

"Actually, Mr Bingley, I had news just today of a most surprising nature. My sister Jane is to be married."

 _The End_


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